


A Pursuit of the Heart

by MyOxIsBroken



Category: John Plumptre - Fandom, Miss Austen Regrets (2008), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Regency Romance, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 137,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOxIsBroken/pseuds/MyOxIsBroken
Summary: John Plumptre's heart was broken when his attempt at a proposal to Fanny Austen Knight was cut short in the face of her seemingly derisive laughter. He relocated to Carshalton to find a fresh start and to advance in his law career. Charlotte Wood's father enlists John's law office to gain recompense after her betrothal ends in humiliation and scandal. Will they find the courage to put their pasts behind them and a way to be together?





	1. A Discussion of Some Delicacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caffiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/gifts).

> This story idea arose when I watched Miss Austen Regrets and felt so badly for John Plumptre, the poor little puppy. Not quite good enough in Fanny's eyes to win her over, unsure of himself, and a little repressed, he went off never to be seen again, but to be engaged offscreen. I wanted to give John a happier ending and imagine how a little time and wisdom gained might have led to a better match with a woman worthy of him.
> 
> Many thanks to the delightful, diabolically talented Caffiend for the beta reading and cheerleading!

Mr. John Plumptre had never considered himself to be a great risk-taker. He had followed his father into the profession of law after receiving an education at the finest institutions available to him. He had been sensible in his pursuits, never dipping a toe into anything scandalous that could come back to harm his reputation later. He had observed many of his compatriots indulging themselves in spirits and loose women, but he had resisted temptation, finding strength in his faith and remaining focused on diligently studying and preparing himself for his career as a solicitor.

It was not that he did not like the practise of law; he did, and likely would have chosen it anyway, even if his father and his father’s father before him had not also been lawyers. But it had not even occurred to him to pursue another profession. It had been expected of him and what he had expected of himself.

When the time had come to choose a bride, his attentions had focused upon one Miss Fanny Austen Knight. She was youthful, lovely, and spirited - a bit too spirited, perhaps, owing to the influence of her Aunt Jane, a woman with very modern and even sometimes scandalous ideas. But he had been sure that they would be compatible and that marriage would settle Fanny into a more proper demeanor. He enjoyed her lightness and laughter and was sure that he would be all the happier for having her as his wife.

He had believed his courtship to be welcome, although he was never quite sure if Fanny’s affections were as strong as his own. Still, she had not indicated that his pursuit was undesired in any of the commonly known ways and had, in fact, seemed to encourage it. The time had come for him to propose.

Sitting on the bench with Fanny, trying to drum up his courage, they had gotten into a discussion of music and what was appropriate. Fanny’s tastes tended towards the more raucous, in John’s opinion, while he argued that sacred music which would be pleasing to the Almighty was preferable. 

Fanny’s laughing response left him feeling unsettled, unsure of himself and his course of action with regard to her. Her reassurance that she was not making fun of him gave him the boldness to forge ahead with his planned proposal. But as he struggled to come up with the right words, the grin on Fanny’s face grew broad, and his heart began to sink.

“Oh, you’re laughing,” he said, a frown creasing his forehead. “Look, I know I’m not brilliant with words.” John stood, gaining a bit of distance from Fanny.

“Oh, no, you are. You are!” Fanny insisted. “John?” she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

“Forgive me. Forgive me, I, uh...I...think I might take a walk to that line of trees, um. Beeches, I think.”

“Beeches? Yes, I believe so,” said Fanny, looking a bit stunned.

“Fagus sylvatica. The dead leaves stay on the tree all over the winter, did you know that? Fascinating subject, botany.”

Excusing himself, John walked deliberately toward the sanctuary of the beech trees, comporting himself in a proper gentlemanly manner but berating himself in mortified whispers as he went. The sting in his heart was keen, and he took deep, steadying breaths as he walked. He had some thinking to do, and some changes to make.

**

John pulled on his suit coat, set his hat atop his golden curls, then headed out the door of his rented flat. His decision to relocate to Carshalton after the debacle with Miss Knight had been the right one. The village was thriving, which meant that there was plenty of business for up-and-coming attorneys, and he had been able to join an established practice, quickly gaining the approval of the barrister who had founded it and being made his partner in just two years’ time. 

The law firm of Tibbetts and Plumptre had an excellent reputation and more than enough clientele to keep them busy. The majority of their work came from drafting wills, drawing up deeds and settlements, and acting as stewards and estate managers for area landowners, but they handled other types of legal work as it arose. John had been able to save up a tidy sum and had been considering purchasing a home of his own, perhaps a place near the edge of the village or past its outskirts a bit, where he could have a bit of land and room for a future family.

As he walked the short distance to his practice, he enjoyed the surprisingly pleasant autumn weather. It was late October, but he had no need of an overcoat and the skies were clear, so he had left his umbrella in its holder near his front door. He enjoyed walking the streets of Carshalton in the early morning - the bustling busyness of shopkeepers preparing to open for the day, tradespeople on their way to their workplaces, businessmen in their suits, and a few constables roaming around, keeping the peace in the ever-growing village. It was exciting to be living in a place with such vitality and promise. The air was crisp, his spirits were high, and he contemplated that morning’s appointment as he walked, greeting shopkeepers and other familiar faces along the way.

Mr. Thomas Wood was coming in to meet with Mr. Tibbetts to discuss a breach of promise case. Mr. Wood’s daughter, Charlotte, had been engaged to marry a Mr. Charles Saunderson. The marriage had been agreed upon by their families when both parties were children. Plans were being made for a spring wedding when news reached both families that Charles had eloped with one Miss Emilia Hewitt, with whom he had evidently been having an affair for some time.

The scandal had rocked their social circle and had tainted Miss Wood’s reputation, being not only abandoned by her fiance but now associated with the unseemly story in how he had done so. Mr. Wood was seeking damages in order to increase the size of his daughter’s dowry should she be fortunate enough to marry, or to help provide for her future if she was not. Mr. Tibbetts would be handling the case himself as Mr. Wood was a prominent member of society and the details were sensitive, but he wished for John to participate and assist as needed. Mr. Wood was a valuable client, and Mr. Tibbetts wanted him to know that he was receiving the best possible service.

**

Charlotte Wood waited as the maid put the finishing touches on her hair, which Rose had swept into a low updo. “Thank you, Rose,” she said once it was finished. Sighing, she picked up her reticule, then she put on her best bonnet and walked down the stairs to meet her father for the ride to the law office of Mssrs. Tibbetts and Plumptre. She had worn her second-best gown, not because the soft emerald green fabric set off her chestnut brown curls, fair complexion, and green eyes. No, she wore it because she needed the armor of a finely cut outfit as she ventured out in public for the first time since her humiliation at the hands of Charles Saunderson.

She had not wished to pursue the matter via legal means, but her father was furious that Saunderson would disrespect him and was determined to make him pay. Charlotte had tried to reason with him, but she knew that it was futile and had given up doing so before long. Now she could only hope that they could achieve a swift resolution so that she could find a way to disappear back out of the public eye. Perhaps a trip to the Lake District would be in order, once all was settled.

Their carriage rolled along surprisingly smoothly. Papa had paid for a well-made conveyance that was designed to absorb the bumps with little jostling for those inside. It was an extravagance, but Charlotte had a hard time thinking it foolish to have spent as much as he must have when the benefits of riding in it were so evident. This was one luxury that she could appreciate.

As they drew nearer to the destination, her stomach began to roil. She did not wish to subject herself to the stares and whispers of the residents of Carshalton, but the choice had been taken away from her by her father’s decision to pursue legal measures against Charles. She only hoped that she would not have to walk much distance to the law office after alighting from the carriage. To her great relief, after the carriage had stopped and the coachman opened the door, she saw that it was just a few steps to the stairs leading to the office entrance.

**

As the law clerk entered the office and announced the arrival of Mr. Wood and his daughter, James Tibbetts stepped forward to shake Thomas’ hand. Mr. Wood had been a client of the firm for some time, with Mr. Tibbetts personally acting as his estate manager for much of that time. Wood bore a weary look of determined resignation, and John could see that he was likely a formidable man to cross. He did not pity Mr. Saunderson, though, as the man deserved anything coming to him.

Charlotte Wood had entered the office on the arm of her father, but she remained a few steps back when he stepped forward to shake Mr. Tibbetts’ hand. John was curious about her but did not wish to make her any more self-conscious than she likely already was. She had kept her eyes downcast, and the bonnet upon her head, although of a fine quality, concealed most of her face. He imagined that she wore it as a way to fortify herself against the slings and arrows of those who would be cruel, but then gave his head the slightest shake, realising he was just being fanciful.

His eyes quickly moved back to Mr. Wood as Mr. Tibbetts introduced him to the man. He spoke up in greeting. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir, although I regret that it is not under happier circumstances.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Wood’s head raise for a moment. He longed to catch a glimpse of her but kept his attention upon the man in front of him, who was answering.

“As do I, Mr. Plumptre. I trust that we will be able to put this unpleasant business behind us quickly so that we may all move forward to a better future. May I introduce my daughter, Miss Charlotte Wood?”

Charlotte took two steps forward and nodded first at Mr. Tibbetts, then Mr. Plumptre, acknowledging the introduction. She glanced only briefly at each man as she quietly returned their greetings.

"Why don't we all sit down, and then we can discuss how we may assist you?" said Mr. Tibbetts.

Mr. Wood took the lead from there. "As you know, my daughter Charlotte has been engaged to be married for the last six months, with the expectation of such an arrangement having been agreed upon by both families for much longer. As such, any other prospects for Charlotte’s marriage were turned away before offers could be made."

John glanced at Miss Wood, who appeared to be looking for either an escape route or a place to hide herself away, perhaps in one of the large cabinets along the wall. He could not help but feel for her and the discomfort she had to be experiencing over the discussion of her broken engagement and lack of other candidates. 

Mr. Wood continued, "Now Charles Saunderson has quite possibly ruined her chances for the future as well-" 

"Papa!" she interjected, unable to remain silent any longer. "I do not require a man for my happiness, and I do wish that you would simply allow all of this to blow over."

Mr. Wood looked at her sternly. "We've discussed this, Charlotte. I will not allow Saunderson's insult to your reputation, and to our entire family, to pass without consequence. Even if I were inclined to do it for your sake, I cannot allow your sisters to be tainted by scandal when the time for their own attachments will be approaching all too quickly."

Charlotte bristled at both his words and his tone but struggled to hold her tongue. Aggravating Papa would do no good. 

John was impressed by her fiery spirit and her courage in speaking up in this meeting, which must be an intimidating circumstance. She was not the wallflower that he had assumed her to be from her initially withdrawn demeanor.

He had in the past believed that women should be genteel and unassuming in public, and had had certain ideas of how that should look. He had found in the last few years, after having been exposed to a wider variety of women in Carshalton both through his employment and through social gatherings, that there was an appeal in a livelier nature and in a woman engaging in candid conversation. He had met a number of appealing, forthright women since moving to the village, although he had not progressed beyond a pleasant acquaintance with any of them. He was not sure what he was looking for in a future wife, but he had not yet found it. 

Neither Fanny’s liveliness nor her directness had been the problem in his relationship with her. On the contrary, he realised now that those things had been part of Fanny’s allure to him.

No, it was Fanny’s indecision about her feelings for him, exacerbated by her aunt’s own misgivings with regards to him, that was the problem. He had not seen it at the time, not until the disastrous failed proposal and his reflections upon their relationship afterward. He knew now that their match would have been ill-advised and was, surprisingly, grateful to her Aunt Jane for putting doubts in her head. He did not want to be someone that his wife settled for, always wondering if there might have been someone else who was a better match for her.

John realised that he had been woolgathering and focused his mind back on the present conversation, quickly wishing that he had not.

“Then there is the matter of my daughter’s virtue, which many will think has been compromised as she was engaged to Mr. Saunderson. It is difficult to place a monetary value on such an assumed loss.”

“Papa, I have already assured you that my- my virtue is still intact,” said Charlotte, turning nearly scarlet as she spoke the disgraceful words in front of two men who were complete strangers to her.

John could not sit idly by as she was subjected to such inappropriate and, dare he think it, cruel conversation being bandied about regarding such deeply personal matters. “Excuse me for interrupting, but perhaps it might be best if I were to escort Miss Wood to the outer offices for a cup of tea, if that is acceptable to her? Such a sensitive subject must be distressing to her.”

He had taken a gamble in making the proposition, having seen that her father was a high-handed man who might not appreciate his interference, but John suspected that he would see his daughter as someone in need of protecting.

“An excellent suggestion, John,” said Mr. Tibbetts.

“Fine, fine. We’ll determine the details and notify you when we have it all worked out.”

“After you, Miss Wood,” said John, extending his arm in the direction of the outer office. He noticed the way her eyes flashed at him, just for a moment, and thought he had better tread carefully.

**

On the one hand, Charlotte resented being dismissed from the discussion as if she was too fragile to bear it or should have no say. But on the other, she recognised the rescue attempt for what it was and was genuinely relieved to be out of the room and away from such a humiliating conversation. She appreciated Mr. Plumptre’s gallant effort, even if she did not care for the condescending manner in which she was being treated by the other two men.

“How do you take your tea, Miss Wood?” he asked, in a mellifluous baritone that she had not noticed previously. She almost forgot to answer him, she was so taken by the beautiful tone of his voice.

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for me to prepare it, Mr. Plumptre?” she had the presence of mind to ask.

“No need, Miss Wood. I am perfectly capable of making a cup of tea and do not mind doing so. I hope that Earl Grey is acceptable. Milk? Sugar?”

“Yes to both, please, Mr. Plumptre.”

He directed her to a plush armchair before he began.

Charlotte watched John as he worked. She had not had more than a fleeting look at him when they were first introduced, and her irritation in the office had kept her from noticing much beyond a head of golden curls. Now she had a chance to study him surreptitiously. His back was to her, but she took the opportunity to look over his form. She noticed that he was quite tall. Although not overly broad, neither was he too lean. She wondered if he was muscular underneath his suit. Perhaps his body bore a resemblance to Michelangelo’s David, beyond the curls of his hair. She had been fortunate enough to travel with her father to Italy several years before, and they had spent a few days in Florence. She had been fascinated by the art and architecture there, although her father had rapidly moved her past the statue of David once they had seen it in all its glory. She had not forgotten the glimpse she had gotten of a man’s enticements, however.

Now her cheeks flushed scarlet as she thought about where she had allowed her mind to wander, and in the presence of a strange man, no less. It was completely improper and Mr. Plumptre would surely be appalled by her wantonness if he had any inkling of her thoughts. She looked for something else on which to focus, something that would be less...stimulating.

Charlotte watched John’s hands as he readied their teacups. He had poured milk into two fine bone china cups before adding the tea from the pot that had already been prepared. He gently stirred them, then added a bit of sugar to both cups as well. It should have seemed strange to see such an imposing man performing such a delicate task, but he moved with both assurance and a surprising grace. His long fingers held the cups and the spoon with an elegant finesse. But she thought that those hands could be quite strong when they needed to be.

She began to wonder what one of those hands would feel like if he cupped her cheek with it, or stroked his fingers down her arm. How would it feel if he took her ungloved hand in his own? Again her cheeks began to heat at her own thoughts, but she did not have time to attempt to redirect them because Mr. Plumptre was turning to her, cups in hand, and walking towards her.

**

John had used his time making their tea to consider what to say to Miss Wood. It was clear that she had bristled at his suggestion that she be sent from the room, but he could not bear to see her endure any more if there was anything he could do about it. He knew that she was less fragile than her father likely thought her to be, and that he himself had thought initially. But the conversation had veered from uncomfortable into downright vulgar. She should not have been subjected to that, and he placed the blame squarely on Mr. Wood’s shoulders, although Mr. Tibbets could have perhaps steered the conversation in a gentler direction - or, at the very least, absented Miss Wood before it had gone that far.

The tea was now ready and he could not put off facing Miss Wood any longer. He turned, cups in hand, and found Miss Wood looking at him most intently, to his great surprise. Her cheeks were rosy and she looked as if she had been caught out doing something she shouldn’t. She quickly dropped her eyes for a moment before looking back at him with a small smile as she accepted the tea with a quiet thank you. The cup trembled a bit in her hand before she steadied herself. She lifted it to her face and let the citrusy smell of bergamot soothe her.

John decided to address the elephant in the room. He was sure that Miss Wood was not prone to swooning over such a conversation; she clearly had a stronger constitution than that. He thought, in fact, that she would appreciate his directness.

“Miss Wood,” he began, at last looking directly at her face as he spoke. He faltered for a moment upon meeting the gaze of her green eyes. He had not noticed their colour, nor the intensity of them, when he had first met her or in the minutes after that. Only now, when she was facing him head-on without wavering, did he notice how remarkable they were. 

She looked at him now with brows raised, and he became conscious of his halted speech. Looking away for a moment and taking a subtle but calming breath, he tried again.

“Miss Wood, I apologise for treating you as if you were too delicate for the discussion that was happening in your presence. I have no doubt that you would have been able to endure it, but I did not think that you should have to do so.”

“I know, Mr. Plumptre, and I appreciate your concern. It was very noble of you to rescue me from a conversation I wish wasn’t happening in the first place,” she responded.

John spoke again, “I am very sorry that Mr. Saunderson chose to break his promise to you.”

“I am not,” came the unexpected response that made John’s eyes widen and eyebrows lift. She continued, “He is boorish and conceited. He is unwise in his business practices, but he would not hear of any suggestions I might make. There was no point in offering him my opinion on that or anything else, because he did not wish to hear it. I did not realise that he was deceiving me with Miss Hewitt, but it is not surprising, considering his lack of character. 

“Our fathers have known each other for decades, but the senior Mr. Saunderson is very unlike his son. It is puzzling how far the apple has fallen from the tree. It was always assumed that Charles and I would marry, even though I did not wish it. I was determined to find a way out of marrying him, but Charles is skilled at charming those he wishes to charm, so my father continued to think very highly of him up until it was impossible to ignore the evidence that he was not a good man.

“I hoped and prayed every day that the Lord would see fit to release me from the burden of marrying him, since my father would not. And while I am thankful that He answered my prayer, at the risk of sounding blasphemous, I do wish that He had shown more kindness in doing so and had brought about the end of the engagement in a more discreet manner.

“Now Papa is determined to be recompensed, as if I am only a prize sow whose chance at a winning litter has been ruined. I would vastly prefer for this to quietly be swept under the rug so that I may return to a life of little notoriety - or as little notoriety as I can, now that my good name has been sullied in the highest circles. But Papa insists that my opportunity for marriage and children has been damaged and he demands satisfaction. One would think I’m only good for breed--” she stopped abruptly, realising at once how indecorous her speech had become.

It was true that John found her words shocking. And yet he could not fault her for feeling that way, or even for being overcome by strong emotion and allowing such things to emerge. He imagined that she had little opportunity to express them to her father, and he was glad to allow her the chance to speak about them with someone who would keep her confidence.

Additionally, he found that the fire of her anger put a spark in her eyes that made them most appealing. Her high temper also caused her cheeks to flush again, returning some of the color that she had likely lost in recent days and only adding to her charms that were rapidly becoming apparent to John. She was still wearing her bonnet, but he could see the brown hair that was mostly hidden underneath. Did it have a reddish tone to it? He couldn’t be sure in the light of the office and with the bonnet covering it, but he would like to find out. Taken altogether, her appearance was quite enchanting. He had thought her on the plain side when he first saw her, but he could see now that it was the toll of recent events that had caused her to appear so. She was lovely enough to serve as a muse to any artist of renown.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Plumptre. You must think me quite lacking in restraint, or even decency,” she spoke out, with a shamed expression on her face.

“Not at all, Miss Wood. It is clear that you are an intelligent lady of good character, who possesses a passionate nature. You have been put through a terrible ordeal by the underhanded dealings of the one you should have been able to trust above all others. And even before that, it was clear that he was a poor match for you, if I may be so bold in saying so. I am the one who is sorry, that you were unable to make your father understand and that you were ever put in such a position in the first place.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to be shocked. She had not expected Mr. Plumptre to be so understanding either of her perspective or of her outburst. Most men would have thought her far too outspoken, at the very least. She was nearly a stranger to him still, and yet he listened and seemed to empathise not just with her treatment at the hands of Mr. Saunderson, but with her father’s decision to match her with him in the first place.

Before she could respond, Mr. Tibbetts opened the door. “John, we are in need of your assistance, please.”

John excused himself and went into the office, closing the door behind him. Charlotte was left in the quiet to finish her tea and contemplate what had just happened.

Mr. Plumptre was a remarkable man indeed. There must be a very fortunate Mrs. Plumptre keeping house somewhere in Carshalton. But even if there was not, it was pointless to spend time thinking about him in any romantic fashion. He was simply being kind, albeit more compassionate than most men she’d met. And an eligible, successful, handsome bachelor such as he would surely have already made an offer of marriage to someone, even if the vows had not yet been said.

No, thinking about Mr. Plumptre at any length would only lead to heartache. She had successfully avoided it for one and twenty years and had no intention of becoming victim to it now. 

She shook off any lingering thoughts of Mr. Plumptre just in time as the door to the inner office opened. Her father emerged, followed by Mr. Tibbetts and the man who was definitely not at the center of her thoughts. Setting down her teacup, she stood up.

Mr. Tibbets spoke: “Mr. Wood, I’ll have the appropriate paperwork drawn up over the next few days and then send it to you via one of our law clerks, if that is acceptable to you?”

“That will be fine. Thank you both for assistance, and your discretion,” said Wood, shaking hands with both Mr. TIbbetts and Mr. Plumptre. “Charlotte, come,” and with that, he took Charlotte’s elbow and led her to the door without giving her the opportunity to say goodbye. 

Her eyes briefly met Mr. Plumptre’s and she gave him a subtle smile of gratitude. Then she was walking down the steps and being handed into the carriage to head back home, likely never to see Mr. Plumptre again.

John watched her go and was surprised at the sense of loss he was experiencing. How could he feel such a powerful connection to a woman he had only known for a matter of minutes?

Mr. Tibbetts set John to drawing up the legal documents to deal with the Woods’ breach of promise claim. He had gone over the details thoroughly to ensure that John understood everything that should be included, in addition to the suggestion that John himself had made during the final minutes of the meeting.

John tried to focus on his workload, knowing it was imperative that they deliver the papers in a timely manner so that they could keep Mr. Wood happy and resolve this delicate matter as quickly as possible for Miss Wood’s sake. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he kept finding himself thinking about a fair face with green eyes and a blazing look of determination on it. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing that face again. There must be something he could do to ensure that wouldn’t be the case.

Regardless, he had to get this documentation completed, no matter how difficult it was to keep his mind on his work. He laboriously began to draw up the papers as a plan formed in the back of his mind. He had to see her again.

Whether or not she wanted to see him, he did not know. But one thing was clear to him: he was in trouble.


	2. An Unexpected Dinner Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John employs his plan and is invited to stay for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Caffiend, Beta Reader Extraordinaire!

John stuck a finger in above his cravat and tugged, taking a deep breath as he summoned the courage to put his plan into motion. Late Friday afternoons were typically not very busy at the law office. Each of their two clerks was given the afternoon off on alternating Fridays, as a matter of fact.

John knew that Mr. Tibbetts had committed to having the breach of promise paperwork to Mr. Wood by the end of the day. While John had not dragged his feet, not wishing to prolong the family's misery - and the misery of one member in particular - neither had he hurried the process along.

The reasons for this were twofold:  
One, he wanted to ensure that he had done a thorough job, not missing any details and making certain that the resolution would be complete and swift. Two, he needed Mr. Tibbetts to finish his review of the documents this afternoon, or his plans would be for naught and he would have to begin anew to contrive a different scheme that would allow him to encounter Miss Wood in an appropriate setting.

James did not check most of John's work, but for this case, he had asked him to complete it and give it to him for review so that there would be two sets of eyes ensuring that all was it should be for this most important client. John had given him the documents an hour previously. Then he had asked Andrew, the clerk who was working that afternoon, to run an errand that he knew would take several hours.

Now he waited anxiously for James to emerge and everything to fall into place as he hoped it would. He stared at the clock on his desk, watching the minutes crawl by, unable to focus on the rest of his workload, so great were both his anticipation and anxiety. Minutes later, he heard James' door open and his heavy steps approaching John's own office.

"Very fine work, John," he spoke from the doorway. "I trust you have made a copy for us to keep here, as usual?"

"I have, sir." James had told him to address him by his Christian name, but John always felt strange doing so when he was quite a few years younger and James had been practicing for so much longer. "It should all be in order."

"Excellent! Please have Andrew run these out to Woodridge immediately. He doesn't live too far away from the estate and can go straight home from there."

"I apologize, sir, but I'm afraid I absentmindedly sent Andrew off with the paperwork for the Barrington family trust. I don't believe he'll be back for at least another hour," he finished, praying that his little white lie was not too grave a sin to commit for a pursuit of the heart.

As he expected, Tibbetts' face reflected his consternation."Blast!" he exclaimed, to John's surprise. James was not usually given over to coarse talk in his presence, and he felt a momentary guilt over causing him distress, even briefly.

"Mrs. Tibbetts is expecting me no later than five this afternoon as we have guests joining us for the evening meal. I suppose I should hire a messenger to let her know that I'll be delayed."

John had known that Mr. Tibbetts would not want to put such sensitive, important documents as the ones for this case into the hands of a hired messenger. Keeping outwardly calm, his heart skipped a beat as he spoke.

"Oh, sir, I would hate for you to disappoint your wife. This was due to my oversight. Why don't I take these to Woodridge myself? I do not have other plans this evening."

Tibbetts took a moment to appear reluctant, but John knew what he was going to say. He tried not to appear too eager, as that might make James suspicious, and he had no wish to explain his motives.

"Are you sure you don't mind, John?"

"Absolutely, sir. No need for you to rearrange your schedule when I can very easily take care of this."

He held his breath and waited to close the deal with Tibbetts.

"Very well. Thank you, John. I appreciate you taking care of this."

"I'll leave immediately, sir."

Closing his satchel after putting the critical papers inside, John went downstairs and walked down the street to the livery stable where they hired horses when necessary. He paid a few coins for the rental fee and was given a fresh horse, ready for the ride to Woodridge.

**

It was half-past four when John arrived at the estate. He hoped that he was not interrupting their evening meal. He had not wished to push the horse overly hard for his own self-interests; nor had he wanted to appear on the doorstep looking sweaty and unkempt, his shirt sticking to his chest and back and his damp curls dropping down over his face. As it was, he stopped the horse a short distance away to take deep calming breaths and give the beautiful animal a minute to rest.

He drew up to the stables and was met by a groom, who took the animal for a thorough rubdown and feeding. Pausing outside the stable doors, John straightened his cravat, then nervously ran his hands down the front of his trouser legs before picking up his satchel and approaching the home.

It was a beautiful, elegant red-brick home that rose several stories. The bottom two floors had large multi-pane windows that were sure to let in plenty of light on sunny days. The topmost floor, where the servants would reside, was shorter but still had plenty of windows, he was glad to see. Above it all was the gabled roof, topped by four large chimneys, two at the front and two at the rear of the home. It was an impressive residence.

The front door swung open before he had a chance to knock, and he was greeted by a footman, who showed him to the drawing-room to wait until he had been announced to Mr. Wood. He surreptitiously glanced around as he was led, looking for signs of Charlotte but failing to find any indications of her presence nearby.

The walls of the spacious drawing-room were covered in a pale blue silk damask fabric. The textured plaster ceiling was painted a warm cream colour, and a large chandelier hung from its centre. There were several sofas in the room, upholstered in a navy blue, and the mahogany armchairs were covered with a buttery yellow fabric, sprigged with navy and cornflower blue blossoms. A large fireplace occupied the center of one wall. Paintings of pastoral landscapes and still lifes adorned the walls.

Despite the formality of the furnishings, the colour choices and comfortable-looking furniture gave the room a warm, welcoming feeling. He imagined that it was a pleasant place for the family and their guests to spend their time.

Turning, he saw bookshelves all along the wall that had been behind him. He was tempted to begin browsing the selections there when the footman returned to escort him to Thomas Wood’s study. Again, he glanced around to see if Charlotte might be near. He did not see the one he hoped to spy, but he did discover a younger version of her on the stairs, standing in place and looking at him with inquisitiveness. This must be one of the sisters about whom Mr. Wood spoke at the office.

John nodded his head at her, then smiled when he saw her eyes widen right before she turned and hurried back up the staircase that she had been descending. Facing forward, he proceeded the last few steps to the door of the study and was invited in by Mr. Wood, who had stood to greet him.

“I didn’t expect you to see you in person, Mr. Plumptre. I had thought one of your clerks would be dispatched when the papers were ready.”

“I’m afraid no clerk was available by the time they were completed, sir. But we had promised you that you would have them by the end of this week, and I wanted to ensure that we kept our word.”

“Very admirable of you, Plumptre. Please, have a seat. May I offer you a drink? Brandy, or perhaps some claret?”

“I’ll have just a bit of brandy, please. Thank you.”

John noted the books in Mr. Wood’s study as the man poured their drinks. Clearly this was a family that enjoyed reading, and he was heartened to find that out. As Wood handed him the glass, John spoke.

“I am sure that you’ll want to look everything over carefully. If you would like, I would be more than happy to send a messenger to pick up the documents in a few days.” Perhaps he could find a way to make the trip himself again, and have better luck in seeing Miss Wood.

“That won’t be necessary. I have business in town on Monday. I’ll review everything this weekend and then drop them at your office that day.”

John’s heart sank. Fate seemed to be conspiring against him, preventing him from seeing Charlotte again. Maybe this was just not meant to be.

**

Charlotte was sitting at her dressing table, brushing out her hair and preparing to pull it back into a simple bun. Suddenly her sisters, 14-year-old Anne and 11-year-old Louisa, entered her bedroom, giggling and whispering.

“What is causing such mirth, I wonder?” she asked them, smiling at their giddy moods.

“There’s a man downstairs!” said Louisa.

“A *handsome* man, according to Louisa!” continued Anne.

“Oh, my, a handsome man in the house. Whatever shall we do?” she said, rolling her eyes a little at their reactions to an unfamiliar masculine presence. “Do you know who it is?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“No, but he’s meeting with Papa. He’s quite tall, he has curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and he’s very handsome!” said Louisa.

“Yes, I gathered that,” responded Charlotte, even as her heart began to pick up its pace. A very handsome, tall man with blonde curls and blue eyes was meeting with her father. Could it possibly be? Was it merely a coincidence?

“Girls, the dinner bell will be rung shortly. Why don’t you go make sure that you are ready and that your hands are clean? And please close my door behind you.”

As her sisters exited her bedroom, Charlotte looked down at the plain, dark brown dress she was wearing. It was one of her day dresses and would be perfectly appropriate for dinner with her family. Her family did not tend to stand on ceremony when they had no guests. She had not planned to change for the meal, but brown was not her best colour. She quickly changed into a gown of a red fabric sprigged with white flowers. It had lace edging along the neckline, and she knew that the colour was flattering to her complexion and eyes. She peered out into the hallway and was fortunate enough to find one of the maids, Jane, passing by. She enlisted her help in doing up her buttons before asking for assistance with her hair.

Often Charlotte would do up her own hair in simple styles, but Jane had a flair for arranging hair and could do it quickly. She rapidly wound it into a few elaborate twists, leaving some soft curls by Charlotte’s face. Jane finished shortly after the bell rang, announcing that it was time for dinner. Charlotte tried to tame the butterflies in her stomach as she descended the stairs.

**

John was surprised by how much he was enjoying Mr. Wood’s company. He had thought the man to be full of bluster and too much regard for the opinions of others, and not much else. Now he could see that his first impressions were misguided, based upon the man’s response to an extreme situation. He still did not approve of his choice to try to force Saunderson upon Miss Wood, nor of his demeanor in the law office with Charlotte present, but he was now seeing that there was more to him than he had initially thought.

Shortly before 5:00 pm, Wood stood up, saying, “You must join us for dinner, John. You have a long ride ahead of you, and I would not like to send you off hungry.”

John’s heart leapt as he realised that his fortunes might be changing. Still, he felt that politeness demanded a refusal, as he had not been expected for the meal.

“That is very kind of you, sir, but I would hate to impose.”

“No imposition, Plumptre. Mrs. Carter always prepares plenty of food, and it is no trouble to add a place setting.”

Stepping out, Wood notified the footman of the addition. The man went to take care of the additional place setting and notify Mrs. Carter of the change.

When the dinner bell rang, John followed Mr. Wood to the dining parlour, the two men carrying their unfinished drinks. It was another impeccably furnished room, this time with red brocade fabric on the walls, above the white wainscoting. There were attractive paintings in here, just as in the drawing-room, and a fireplace in the far corner would help to keep the room cosy. There were smaller tables around the edges of the room, but in its centre was a walnut pedestal dining table, surrounded by eight chairs with seats upholstered in a deep green material. A few additional dining chairs were in corners of the room, ready to be added to an expanded table when additional guests were being hosted. The table was already laden with the dishes for their meal, and other family members had gathered, with the exception of Charlotte.

“My dear, Mr. Plumptre is joining us for dinner this evening. Mr. Plumptre, this is my wife, Margaret.”

“Wonderful!” said the woman with an easy smile. “It is lovely to meet you, Mr. Plumptre. We are so pleased that you are able to dine with us.”

John returned her greeting. He could see that Charlotte strongly resembled her mother, and he liked her immediately. Mrs. Wood’s welcoming demeanor instantly made him feel more at ease about staying, even as he became a bit anxious, wondering if Charlotte had called upon an acquaintance that day and had perhaps not yet returned. She may even be away for a longer visit.

The family was standing behind their chairs as if waiting for something. Mr. Wood performed the introductions, John meeting not only Louisa and Anne, but also their 17-year-old brother, Edmund. He was being directed to a seat near Mrs. Wood and across from Edmund when there was a slight flurry of activity at the door, and Charlotte entered.

She looked absolutely lovely, even more than he had remembered, and he felt the increased staccato of his heartbeat as he was finally able to look upon her again. She dropped a quick curtsy and apologized for being late.

“Charlotte, Mr. Plumptre is joining us for dinner tonight.”

She at last made eye contact with John, and he did his best to keep a pleasant but not overly enthusiastic smile upon his face. He had no idea what Charlotte thought about him, but it was best not to show his hand too early in case she did not reciprocate his interest. He did not wish to make anyone uncomfortable.

Again she curtsied, this time to him, and he returned it with a bow.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Plumptre. I trust that your ride was not too taxing?” she asked.

“Not at all, Miss Wood,” came the voice that she already adored hearing. “It was invigorating, and exciting to be out of the office for a ride on such a fine day!”

The family took their seats for the meal, Charlotte sitting next to her father, across from Anne and at the opposite corner of the table from John. Louisa sat between Anne and John, with Edmund next to his mother, directly opposite John. Mr. Wood blessed the meal, and the first course was served, a creamy chestnut soup.

John noticed that Louisa kept sneaking surreptitious glances at Charlotte and was curious as to the cause. He did not have to wonder long, as Louisa’s youthful voice soon piped up.

“Charlotte, why did you change your dress?” she asked, guilelessly.

John glanced at the woman in question and saw her eyes flash at her sister as she began to blush. He could see her take a measured breath before responding.

“My other gown was not in a tidy state,” she said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“And your hair looks fancier than it usually does for dinner,” Louisa continued.

Charlotte’s discomposure was becoming apparent, but she managed to answer her overly inquisitive sister. “Jane wanted to practise a new style, but I do regret that we caused a delay in the start of the meal.” She glanced at John to find him looking at her with an enigmatic expression and a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it amusement? Or could it possibly be admiration? She hoped it was the latter but was aghast to think it might only be the former. She could tolerate it if it was both, but not if he was merely taking delight in her embarrassment.

Mrs. Wood glanced shrewdly at John, then Charlotte, before she returned her appraising gaze to John. Then she spoke, not to John, but to her two youngest children.

“Girls, why don’t you tell us about what you learned in your lessons today?” she said, successfully redirecting the talk at the table.

Conversation flowed easily, to John’s delight, and he found the Wood family to be excellent dinner companions. As the soup bowls were cleared and the second course of roasted chicken, root vegetables, and a savory pie was served, Mrs. Wood turned to John.

“Mr. Plumptre, I fear that we are keeping you from your family. I do hope that they are not concerned over your delay in returning to them for the evening.”

“I live alone, Mrs. Wood. There is no one waiting upon my return, so do not be troubled.”

“That is a relief, sir. I should hate to cause anyone distress. And your betrothed, does she live in Carshalton?” she asked.

John dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, hiding his grin until he could conceal it, then responded. “I have no betrothed, madam. I am not attached to anyone.” He did not miss the delighted gleam in her eye at his answer.

“I see. Well, I am sure that the Lord will provide when the time is right.”

John was not sure how to respond to that pronouncement, but she spoke again before any self-consciousness could settle in.

“Tell me about yourself, Mr. Plumptre. Have you lived in Carshalton for very long?”

“No, it’s been just over two years since I moved here from Chawton.”

“And is that where your parents reside?”

“It is. Their estate is a few miles from the village itself.”

John shared with her about his family members - his parents, William and Abigail; his elder brother, George; and his younger sisters, Elizabeth and Lavinia. George lived on the estate with his wife, Mary, and their three children. George assisted his father with the day-to-day operations as he would one day be overseeing all of it himself, as heir to the estate. John’s sisters had both married within the last eighteen months and now lived with their husbands in their own homes. Elizabeth had a daughter, but Lavinia had not yet been blessed with children.

“What was it that brought you to Carshalton, Plumptre?” asked Mr. Wood.

“I had been practising law for a few years but was looking for a new opportunity. Mr. Tibbetts was an acquaintance of one of my law school professors, who recommended me to him when he was looking for an attorney to share the workload. It has been a blessing to work with him.”

“Tibbetts had nothing but good things to say about you when I met with him a few days ago,” responded Mr. Wood, to John’s pleased embarrassment.

“Thank you, sir. That is a nice thing to hear indeed.”

Dinner was over with quickly, or so it seemed to John, and the ladies took themselves off to the drawing room. Mr. Wood poured glasses of port for John, Edmund, and himself. The men discussed local news and politics for a few minutes until it was time to join the ladies in the drawing-room.

As they settled themselves around the room, Mrs. Wood suggested they enjoy some recitations. Those reciting were welcome to do so either from memory, or they could select one of the books in the room and choose an appropriate passage to read.

Louisa volunteered to start, and as she had been reading Gulliver’s Travels, she elected to read a passage from the book. Anne went next, and she chose an entire story from Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Hansel and Gretel. Edmund declined a turn.

The attention turned to Charlotte, and she asked for a few more minutes to decide.

“May I take a turn?” asked John.

“Please do!” answered Mrs. Wood, and John stood and took his place.

Then he started to speak, his melodious, rich voice instantly transporting them to the time of Henry V. There was a quiet urgency as he began:

_“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;_   
_ Or close the wall up with our English dead._   
_ In peace there's nothing so becomes a man_   
_ As modest stillness and humility:”_

With his next words, his volume and intensity began to slowly increase:

_“But when the blast of war blows in our ears,_   
_ Then imitate the action of the tiger;_   
_ Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,_   
_ Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;_

He continued until his passion and fervor permeated the room as he finished with Harry’s famous words:

_“I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,_   
_ Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:_   
_ Follow your spirit, and upon this charge_   
_ Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'”_

Silence reigned for several seconds, everyone overcome by John’s performance. He had begun to shift from one foot to the other, wondering if he’d chosen poorly, when Edmund suddenly called out, “Bravo!” and began clapping. He was soon followed by the applause and exclamations of the others in the room, all of whom had been surprised and touched by the impassioned honesty of John’s monologue.

“I wonder if you might have missed your calling, Mr. Plumptre,” said Mrs. Wood. “I do believe that you would have been well suited for a career in the theatre!”

“I thank you, madam, but I am content practising the law and only occasionally participating in such amusements,” said John, with a smile. “I am pleased, however, that my selection was so well received. Henry V is one of my favourite of Shakespeare’s plays.”

Eyes turned to Charlotte to see if she was ready for her own recitation. She was daunted to follow John, but stood and readied herself nonetheless.

“I must admit that I feel some trepidation in being the next one to go after such a bravura performance, but I will endeavour to do my chosen text some justice.” She had seized upon a different Shakespeare play, The Merchant of Venice, choosing to recite the speech that Portia gives to Shylock in a key moment.

_“The quality of mercy is not strain’d,_   
_ It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven_   
_ Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;_   
_ It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:_   
_ ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes_   
_ The throned monarch better than his crown;_   
_ His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,_   
_ The attribute to awe and majesty,_   
_ Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;_   
_ But mercy is above this sceptred sway;_   
_ It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,_   
_ It is an attribute to God himself;_   
_ And earthly power doth then show likest God’s_   
_ When mercy seasons justice.”_

John was impressed by her familiarity with the text. Shakespeare was one of his favourite authors, and Miss Wood evidently shared his admiration for the playwright, judging by her ability to perform Portia’s speech.

As she sat, she risked a glance at John and saw him looking at her with shining eyes. He was sitting near enough to say softly, “Well done!” She felt a warm glow in her chest at his praise, and an unfamiliar craving to earn more of it.

Louisa and Anna took turns again, then Edmund had a go, sharing a surprisingly poignant rendition of "Daffodils" by Wordsworth.

"Mr. Plumptre, have you another text at hand that you will share with us?" asked Mrs. Wood.

"Might I offer another selection by the Bard? Perhaps something a bit lighter this time."

John then launched into a monologue by Dogberry from Much Ado About Nothing:

_“Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? _   
_ Oh, that he were here to write me down an ass! But masters, remember_   
_ that I am an ass, though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass._   
_ No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness._   
_ I am a wise fellow and, which is more, an officer and, which is more, a householder_   
_ and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one_   
_ that knows the law, go to, and a rich fellow enough, go to, and a fellow that hath had losses,_   
_ and one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him_   
_ Bring him away. Oh, that I had been writ down an ass!”_

John’s performance was so lively, and his interpretation of the comedy of Shakespeare so acute, that he had his audience laughing throughout. Some were wiping away mirthful tears by the end.

He turned to Charlotte as he sat. “Miss Wood, will you do another, also?” he asked.

“Very well, but only a short one,” she said. Inspired by his choice, she selected another bit from the same play.

_“He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight; _   
_ and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid,_   
_ and challenged him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he_   
_ killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed?_   
_ for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.”_

Once again, there was laughter and applause from an appreciative audience. Then Mrs. Wood looked at the clock that was on the mantel.

“Girls, it is nearly time for you to retire.” Their disappointed sounds were cut off with one glance from their mother.

“Perhaps Mr. Plumptre will gift us with one more recitation before you go upstairs,” she said.

“Oh, but I have already done two. I do not wish to monopolise the evening.” In truth, John had enjoyed his time there immensely, including the opportunity to express his love of Shakespeare. But he did not want to be greedy with their time and attention.

“Nonsense. You are our guest, and you clearly have a gift for performing. We would be delighted to hear from you once more before you must leave us.”

With the others coaxing him, he stood once more, humbled and flattered by their enthusiasm. “I think I shall finish as I started: with Shakespeare.”

_“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_   
_ Thou art more lovely and more temperate:_   
_ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_   
_ And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;_   
_ Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_   
_ And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;_   
_ And every fair from fair sometime declines,_   
_ By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;_   
_ But thy eternal summer shall not fade,_   
_ Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;_   
_ Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,_   
_ When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:_   
_ So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,_   
_ So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”_

He closed his eyes as he began to speak, feeling the emotion of Shakespeare’s 18th Sonnet and allow it to flow through him and infuse his words. As he spoke the last line, he made the mistake of opening his eyes again and found his gaze locked with Charlotte’s. She was watching him with rapt attention, her rose-coloured lips parted the tiniest bit, and he almost faltered on the last few words as his mind temporarily went blank. He recovered quickly, unsure if anyone noticed the verbal stumble, and finished the sonnet, still looking at Charlotte, before finally tearing his eyes away from hers.

For her part, Charlotte had been lost in the beauty of his words, his voice as he spoke them, and his face. Upon first meeting him, she had thought he resembled Michelangelo's classic sculpture of David. Watching him now, she felt as if she had seen Adonis come to life, with his tall, sinewy frame, his golden hair, and his beautifully sculpted cheekbones and jawline.

“Oh, my!” said Mrs. Wood, shaking Charlotte from her fanciful thoughts. “That was certainly a lovely way to end our evening together, wasn’t it? Thank you for indulging us one final time, Mr. Plumptre. That was delightful! And now, girls, the time has come for you to retire. Please say your goodnights, and I will be up to see you both shortly.”

Louisa and Anne bid everyone goodnight and went upstairs, soon followed by Edmund, who had had a particularly early start that day and was consequently seeking his bed, too. Mr. and Mrs. Wood sat and chatted with Charlotte and John for a few more minutes before Mrs. Wood rose.

“It has been a true pleasure meeting you, Mr. Plumptre. We hope that you will have occasion to visit us again. You are welcome any time.” With that, she walked towards the drawing room doors and stopped at the entrance to the room, turning.

“Oh, Thomas?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I need to speak with you about something of great consequence. Could you please accompany me upstairs? Charlotte, perhaps you can escort Mr. Plumptre to retrieve his horse,” she suggested.

Charlotte was shocked at her mother, scheming to get her alone with John. But she was even more astounded when her father went along with the suggestion, unsure if he knew what her mother was up to and approved, or if he was completely unaware of her machinations. She glanced cautiously at John, afraid of what he might think.

He wore a barely restrained expression of amusement, and she knew that he was perfectly aware of what had just happened.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Plumptre. Please believe me when I say I had no hand in Mama’s scheming.”

His face now broke into an open, affable smile. He did not appear upset in the least, and his words attested to that fact. “I do not mind having time alone with you, Miss Wood. But as I would not wish to risk your reputation, I should take my leave.”

“Of course. I’ll see you outside, sir,” she said, leading the way to the front door. He picked up his overcoat and hat that he had doffed earlier while in Mr. Wood’s study, and put them on, fastening the coat buttons as they walked out of the door. Charlotte had grabbed a shawl to ward off the chill as she walked with him to where the horse was being held by the groom, who had been alerted to Mr. Plumptre’s impending departure.

John thanked the groom as he took the reins, then he turned to Charlotte.

“This evening has been rather enlightening.”

“How so?” she asked.

“I learned several interesting things. First, your family is very engaging. Second, you are well-versed in Shakespeare and skilled at recitation. And third, red is quite becoming on you.”

She looked up at him in surprise, then quietly said, “Thank you,” as he swung himself up into the saddle.

“I discovered one more thing tonight. Charles Saunderson was a complete fool for not realising the precious gift he had in you. Good night, Miss Wood.”

He gave the reins a gentle flick and set off at a canter, heading back to town.

Charlotte was stunned as she watched him until he disappeared from view. Then she stood staring at the empty road until she felt the chill of the evening sinking down through her shawl. Pulling herself out of her reverie, she went inside and upstairs to her own room, too shaken and in need of mulling over all that had happened to speak with her parents any more that evening.

It wasn’t until several hours later, waiting for sleep to come, that she realised she had not even told Mr. Plumptre goodbye.


	3. An Impassioned Defence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bookshop provides the opportunity for more than book purchases.

Mr. Wood had carefully reviewed the paperwork that John had brought him, finding nothing lacking. He was impressed with the young man’s work.

He was also impressed with the young man himself. He had not met Plumptre prior to their introduction at the law office the week before and had not spent much time with him during that initial meeting, so he had no opinion about him other than thinking his suggestion to remove Charlotte from the room was insightful.

He knew that John had couched the suggestion in a way that he thought would be most acceptable to Wood, and he found himself impressed by his cunning in doing so. Cunning was an admirable quality in a person if it was paired with good character. If not, it could be disastrous, as he had now seen in the aftermath of his daughter’s broken attachment to Charles Saunderson.

Just the thought of that man made him wrap his hands more tightly around his glass, wishing it were Saunderson’s neck in his hands instead. But better that it be the glass, as his family needed him with them, and not standing trial for assault. Shaking his head at his desire to inflict pain on the man who had hurt his daughter, he drained his glass and stood.

He picked up his overcoat and hat and put them on for the ride to the office of Tibbetts and Plumptre. Although he and Charlotte would be in the carriage, it could be quite chilly as they moved further into autumn. They had blankets available to them if the temperature suddenly dropped, but he thought the overcoat would be sufficient for warmth.

He left his study to find his eldest daughter already waiting for him in the hall. She smiled brightly as she greeted him. He noticed that she was wearing her dark blue day dress. It was one of his favourites on her, the colour contrasting nicely with her creamy skin and making her eyes seem even greener. She looked quite becoming for her visit to the bookshop.

When Charlotte discovered that he was traveling again to town, this time to deliver the documents to the law office, she immediately asked if she could accompany him, stating that she would like to find a few new books to read. Although their collection was extensive, Charlotte had already read and reread nearly all of it, and she was always happy to discover new books - novels, nonfiction, poetry collections, and more. Charlotte’s tastes were widely varied. He had told her yes, even as he was doubtful that a trip to the bookshop was the entirety of her reasons for wanting to go with him.

Charlotte felt herself growing anxious as they drove through the town and neared their destination. She might not even see Mr. Plumptre that day, but perhaps she would be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of him from the street, through his office window. Or maybe she would finish at the shop and contrive to meet her father at the office, which was right across the street from the bookshop.

She had an overwhelming desire to see Mr. Plumptre again. She had thought him kind after their first meeting, and she had certainly noticed his appealing visage. But she had known other kind, attractive men, and the tumult of recent events had kept her from giving him much consideration afterward.

Things had changed, however, after their time together on Friday evening. She had not only had the opportunity to study that exceedingly attractive visage in great detail, she had also heard him speak with much affection about his family members, seen him easily interact with her own family, and watched as he brought some of her favourite Shakespearean works vividly to life. And she had found his expressive eyes upon her at many points throughout the evening. She was beginning to think that she could get lost in those eyes, and happily so.

She kept thinking about him all throughout the weekend. Her mind frequently went to his parting words to her: “Charles Saunderson was a complete fool for not realising the precious gift he had in you.”

What was his intention in saying that? Was it flattery? Was it simply more kindness from a man who clearly had much compassion for others? Or was there more to it? Was it possible that he admired her? That, under different circumstances, he might have wanted to court her?

She shook herself out of her reverie as the carriage pulled up in front of the law office. For goodness’ sake, she was becoming as bad as Marianne Dashwood, all sensibility and no sense. She had never been one to moon over a man previously; why was she doing so now?

Her father descended the carriage steps and turned to offer her his hand. As she alit from the carriage, she chanced a peek at the windows of Tibbetts and Plumptre, but she was unsure which window belonged to Mr. Plumptre’s office. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she smiled at her father and turned to cross the short distance to the bookshop.

The bell above the door rang as she entered. The shopkeeper, Mr. Page, greeted her and she smiled a greeting in return and asked after Mrs. Page and the children. She had always been amused by his surname and wondered if he had purposely chosen bookselling as his profession because of it.

Glancing around, she saw a group of three young ladies standing together, pretending to peruse the shelves but, in all likelihood, taking the opportunity to exchange juicy bits of gossip. She thought that one of them looked familiar and suspected that she had made her acquaintance at Mrs. Churchill’s spring soiree. Alice something? Agnes? Agatha, maybe? She was sure it was something that started with “A.” Whatever her name, her eyes widened when she saw Charlotte, then she turned to her compatriots and began whispering furiously.

Charlotte suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and huff in indignation and turned away, walking around a corner to the more secluded part of the shop. She picked up the first book she saw and began to look through its pages, not really seeing the words. She wondered if it had been a mistake to come. Perhaps she should have stayed home, where she would be away from open speculation and not agonising over whether or not she would be able to spy the glorious Mr. Plumptre from afar.

**

John knew that Mr. Wood was coming in to the office that afternoon in order to sign the documents in their presence, allowing them to proceed with the claim. He was still disappointed that he had been unable to arrange to pick them up, giving himself the chance to see Miss Wood again. He knew that he was being greedy, having already seen her twice in the past week, but he did not care. He longed to be near her.

He found himself comparing Miss Wood to Miss Knight. Both were of a similar age, but worlds apart in temperament. Charlotte was lively, just as Fanny was, but it was tempered by a maturity and wisdom that he thought she had likely already possessed even before the events of the last few months. Fanny could be impatient; he sensed that Charlotte possessed a more self-controlled and thoughtful nature. Fanny would make someone a wonderful wife with a bit more time and life experience to develop more of her positive attributes, but he did not think that she was quite ready for marriage when he had been courting her.

Not only had Fanny had some growing up to do, but he himself had also needed to let go of certain rigid ways of thinking and behaving. He was a different man, still often measured in his decisions and actions, but with an ability to be lighthearted when appropriate, along with a more balanced perspective. He knew now that their match would have only brought both of them frustration, unhappiness, and dissatisfaction. 

With Miss Wood, he thought that he had found a much more suitable...candidate, if that was the right word for her. But that made it sound as if he had a whole flock of ladies that he was considering, deciding which one would be the winner in his one-man contest, and that was not how things were at all.

Truthfully, he already felt more deeply for Miss Wood than he ever had for Miss Knight. He could easily imagine himself spending the rest of his life with her, providing for her, giving her a comfortable home, taking care of and protecting her and, if they were so fortunate, raising children with her. She would make a wonderful mother, he was sure, but even if they were never blessed with offspring, he suspected he would be deliriously happy with just the two of them.

But now he got to the crux of the problem: he had no idea what Miss Wood thought about him, or *if* she thought about him. She had seemed to enjoy his company on Friday evening, to be sure, and he had discovered her looking at him throughout his time at her home. But perhaps she was merely practising hospitality and allowing her friendly nature to emerge. Was she even ready to consider someone else after things had ended rather horridly with Saunderson only a few months ago? 

Was he being an utter ass to even hope to try to win her affections, especially this soon after a broken engagement? He certainly couldn’t openly pursue her until a little more time had passed. Things were not resolved with Saunderson, and Miss Wood being attached to another man so quickly would only add fuel to the unfounded rumours.

John sighed and checked his pocket watch, noting that it was nearly time for Mr. Wood’s appointment with them. He heard the sound of slowing wheels outside and looked out his window to see a carriage stopping. He thought that was the carriage that Mr. Wood had used previously, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the man step down out of the vehicle.

Wood turned around toward the open door and extended his hand upward. John’s heart began a rapid drumbeat when he saw Charlotte take the offered hand and step down. She was right outside, not back home at their estate as he had thought. He saw her look up at the windows of the law office, then quickly return her gaze to her father with a smile before turning to go across the street to Page’s Bookshop.

She was so near, but he did not know if he would have the opportunity to speak with her, or to see her up close. Would she come to the office? Would her father finish and go retrieve her from the shop?

Mr. Wood was now entering the front door of the office, and John stood up to greet the man and walk with him to Mr. Tibbetts’ office. They would discuss any changes that might need to be made. That would take, what? An hour? Perhaps longer?

John felt both hopeful and frustrated, but he set aside his emotions and focused on the task at hand as he sat down and prepared to make any necessary notes.

**

Charlotte had lost herself in the stories around her, choosing several and taking them to the counter for Mr. Page to hold until she was done looking. Her father had not said how long he would be, but if he had not come to pick her up when she was finished, she could always sit in the comfortable chair that Mr. Page had provided in the shop corner and begin reading one of her books. She wondered if it would be appropriate to go over to the law office unaccompanied and let herself in to wait there. She would be unescorted and they likely were not expecting her, but it was only across the street and she did not think she would be in the way.

At least the three young women from earlier had vacated the store, leaving her to the quiet. She picked up a gothic romance and was just opening it when a sonorous voice spoke from over her shoulder.

“The Mysteries of Udolpho? That’s a daring choice, Miss Wood.”

She felt a thrill up her spine, both at his nearness and his words.

“It can’t always be Shakespeare, Mr. Plumptre,” she answered, responding in kind to his flirtatious tone. “Have you never read a gothic romance before?”

“I admit that I have not.”

“Mysterious happenings, remote castles, spooky occurrences, an innocent heroine falling in love and then into grave peril - you should try one! You might enjoy the genre.”

“Perhaps I might borrow that one from you when you’ve finished it, Miss Wood?”

“I think that can be arranged, sir,” she said, adding it to her list of books to purchase. “Are you on a shopping expedition yourself?”

“No, I have come to tell you that your father had business with a merchant after we were done. Our meeting was unexpectedly quick, so he thought it best to take care of his other business today, while he’s already here. I told him that I would relay a message to you so that he could be underway. I would be happy to escort you to our office when you are through here, should you wish to wait there for him.”

“I would like that. I’ll only be a moment,” she said, moving to the counter to make her purchases.

Bidding Mr. Page farewell, they walked to the door of the shop together and John held it open for Charlotte to walk through ahead of him. When they reached the walk outside, John crooked his arm towards her.

Charlotte held her breath as she slipped her arm through his and wrapped her hand around it lightly. It was thrilling to be touching Mr. Plumptre for the first time, even if it was just for a polite assist across the street and up the stairs to the law office.

John was also incredibly conscious of the feel of her delicate gloved hand on his arm, putting the slightest pressure there. He bit his lip to prevent an embarrassing grin from emerging as they set forth.

“Tell me, what other books and authors do you enjoy?” he asked as they walked up the steps to the office.

**

John kept Charlotte company until her father returned to the office. Their conversation revolved not only around books, but also music, theatrical productions that each had been able to see, and their favourite foods. Charlotte was not surprised to discover that John had a sweet tooth.

She had noticed his immense enjoyment of the baked apple pudding that they had eaten at the end of their meal, as well as the raspberry and almond comfits they ate afterward, for the benefit of their health. Mr. Plumptre was certain to be quite healthy, judging by the number of comfits that seemed to disappear by his hand, even as she could see he was trying to restrain himself.

All too soon, Mr. Wood returned to the office and collected Charlotte.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Mr. Plumptre. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Wood.” He bowed to Charlotte, who curtsied in response before leaving with her father.

John found himself feeling strangely bereft for the remainder of the day.

**

John thought about the weekend ahead of him. Mr. Tibbetts preferred not to come in on Saturdays, and he had decided once John had started that the entire office would be closed that day, as they were now able to keep up with the workload without needing Saturday hours. While he typically enjoyed having a day of leisure, in addition to the Sabbath day of rest, he now found himself considering all of the hours to fill and how he would do so. They seemed emptier than they had previously, especially now that it was November and the weather was turning colder, with rainy days becoming quite frequent. He spent more time indoors as a result.

Miss Wood had made some excellent recommendations regarding books he had not yet read and, with this in mind, he took the opportunity at lunch to cross the street to Mr. Page’s shop. He enjoyed perusing the varied tomes, setting some on the counter while he continued to look. There was currently one other customer, a well-dressed woman who returned his nod when he entered the shop, then continued her own browsing. 

Although they had not been introduced, John recognised her from several prominent social events he had attended in Carshalton. She was Lady Frances Torrington, the wealthy widow of an earl. She was known as much for her philanthropic efforts and kindness to her staff as she was for the lively balls and soirees she would throw. John had not had the pleasure of attending one of her social events, but Mr. Tibbetts had been to several over the years and had extolled the virtues of both the events and of the woman herself.

Lady Torrington had been known as a great beauty in her youth, and even now, past her fiftieth year, she still had a striking appearance. She was tall for a woman, with sharply defined features that were softened by the kindness in her blue eyes and the smile she often wore. Her blonde hair was shot through with streaks of silver, but they only added to her regal look. 

Her marriage to her husband, Lord Richard Torrington, had been arranged by their parents. The two had not met until after the betrothal had already been agreed upon, but they were fortunate in that their mutual respect and caring for one another had developed into a deep love that had been envied by many. Lord Torrington had been gone for five years now, struck down by a case of influenza. His wife had been so grieved by his death that she refused nearly every invitation to dance since, even after she began to host balls once again, preferring instead to watch the dancing of others. It was still rare for her to accept a request.

John and Lady Torrington spent several more quiet minutes examining the volumes. Their shared peace was broken by the ringing of the bell on the shop door, which announced the arrival of a group of young ladies. John nodded at them and turned back to his reading, but not before seeing the appreciative looks several of them gave him.

He was deep into an interesting passage of the nonfiction book he was currently considering purchasing when he heard a familiar name in the conversation that the young women were having.

“Do you know who I saw when I was here a few days ago? Charlotte Wood!”

Several of the ladies gasped, and one said, “I cannot believe she had the temerity to be out in public, so soon after...you know.” She whispered the last few words as if they were some terrible secret.

“I always thought that she and Mr. Saunderson were a well-made match. I wonder what happened that made him leave her?”

John was becoming increasingly indignant as they continued to gossip about Charlotte. He did not know if it was his place to defend her reputation, but he could no longer stand idly by and listen.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I could not help but hear the topic of your conversation as you did not exercise prudence in choosing either the location of your discussion nor the volume of your words. Have you any evidence that Miss Wood has done anything to deserve the abhorrent treatment she received at the hands of Mr. Saunderson?”

He spoke in a calm voice, but it was seething with barely-contained fury. The ladies looked at one another, then began to shake their heads back and forth.

“The Wood family are acquaintances of mine, and in the short time that I have known them, it has already become evident to me that they are of a fine character. It is they who have been wronged by Mr. Saunderson, and not the other way around. It was very poor form for Mr. Saunderson to break his engagement, and to do so in the manner he chose is indefensible. It is he who has earned your derision.

“You would do well to refrain from spreading salacious rumours that only add to the family’s misery. I would also encourage you to be better informed before choosing to speak about others. Or even better, swear off of gossip altogether, as it does nothing to edify either yourselves or the persons of whom you speak. It only reflects poorly on one’s own character when they engage in such petty actions.”

His censorious gaze cowed even the boldest of the women. All talking ceased and they cast their gazes to the floor. He could only hope that they might consider their words, and Miss Wood’s reputation, more carefully in the future.

John addressed the shopkeeper next. “Mr. Page, I will return later this afternoon, when the shop is a bit less busy, to complete my purchase. Thank you, sir.”

“Too right, Mr. Plumptre. I apologise that you were unable to do so now,” said Mr. Page, smiling at John. Charlotte had always been one of his favourite customers, not only stopping in regularly to make purchases but always inquiring as to the health of his wife and family and showing genuine interest. He was glad that someone had spoken up on her behalf.

As John turned to leave, he met the gaze of Lady Torrington. It was clear that she had heard everything, and he wondered what she would think of the whole situation and if it would reflect poorly on himself or, worse, Mr. Tibbetts and the law practice.

Instead, Lady Torrington nodded her head at him, a gleam of approval in her eyes, before turning back to the book in her hands.

John was still upset about what he had heard, but his steps felt a bit lighter knowing that others were on Charlotte’s side. He hoped that the newspaper notice would make a positive impact for Charlotte and her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Caffiend for her continued beta skills!


	4. An Encounter Among the Hedges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luncheon with Mr. Plumptre and the Tibbetts family brings about a revelation for Charlotte and the opportunity to convey her gratitude.

**November 20, 1816**

**Mr. Charles Saunderson of Sutton would like to offer his humblest and most abject apologies to Miss Charlotte Wood of the Woodridge Estate, Carshalton, as well as to Mr. Thomas Wood, Mrs. Margaret Wood, and the entire Wood family. **

**Any wrongdoing in the severing of the marriage contract between himself and Miss Wood was entirely on his part. The Wood family remains, as always, above reproach and of a character that should not be called into question. He regrets any difficulty or distress suffered by the family due to his rash and indecorous actions.**

**

Charlotte stared at the page of the newspaper that her father had handed her, unable to believe what she was reading. Here was her recent humiliation, detailed in print for all to see. Granted, Charles was, shockingly, taking ownership of the damage he had done in behaving in such an unseemly and thoughtless manner. But it still stung a little to see it in stark letters in the London Times. 

She had not expected such a public response from Charles, nor one in which he claimed full responsibility. It was embarrassing, to be sure, but she also thought it could only benefit the reputation of her family for Charles to have done so. She would swallow her pride and be grateful, however it had come about. 

She noticed that her father was carefully watching her. 

"Are you alright, child?" he asked tenderly. 

He had not called her child in years, and it made her throat swell with sentiment. She swallowed and took a moment to compose herself before answering. 

"I am fine, Papa. Thank you for your concern. I only wish that such a thing had not been necessary, but I suppose that it was. I'm grateful to you for seeing it done, as I am sure that this is not something Charles would have chosen to do of his own volition."

"I wish that I could take credit, daughter, but it was the law office that devised that particular term of our agreement with Charles. They ensured that it would happen in the hopes that it would help to curtail further gossip."

"Oh!" said Charlotte in surprise. It seemed an unorthodox stipulation and she was curious as to how it had occurred to them to include it in the first place. "I shall have to thank them at the earliest opportunity." 

"I thought it would be appropriate to invite Mr. Tibbetts and Mr. Plumptre to lunch in the near future to thank them, now that things with Saunderson are nearly resolved. Your mother has already sent them cards for luncheon a week from Saturday and has included Tibbetts' family in his invitation."

"I think that's an excellent idea, Papa. I am sure that they will all enjoy Mrs. Carter's cooking. We already know that it is to Mr. Plumptre's taste," she said, as they smiled at one another. 

She questioned her father about Mr. Tibbetts' family and discovered that he had four children that her father thought must be no older than about 12 for the eldest, with the youngest perhaps 4 or 5. Charlotte loved children, and they always took to her immediately, so she looked forward to making their acquaintance and having a lively time during their visit. 

Charlotte excused herself from her father's study and went to freshen up. She had decided that a call to her friend Eleanor was needed and made haste so that they might have a nice long visit before she must return home for dinner. 

**

Eleanor Easton was one of the few friends who had remained steadfast and loyal after her broken engagement had become public knowledge and a favourite topic of the worst of the village gossipmongers. In a way, she did not blame some of her former friends for choosing not to publicly acknowledge her because she understood how quickly the stain of scandal could spread to others. 

But thinking about those who snubbed her in private pained her to a great degree. It had only happened twice before she stopped making calls unless someone first called upon her.

_ Charlotte walked the short distance to the Partridges' estate, enjoying the sunshine that would soon be in even scarcer supply as the days of August drew to a close. She frequently utilised the carriage when making calls, but as it was close and it was such a lovely day, she had decided an afternoon constitutional was in order. _

_ Jane had accompanied her so that she would not be seen walking unescorted. Charlotte always liked spending time with Jane as the girl was not too much younger than she was and was wonderful company. She was intelligent and had a delightful streak of humour that peeked through when it was just the two of them. _

_ Harriet Partridge was quite definite about only receiving calls during the socially acceptable times, so Charlotte had set out to arrive during the normal morning call period. She and Harriet were not particularly close, but they had always had pleasant if a bit dull visits to one another, discussing the appropriate topics and certainly nothing impertinent. _

_ As Charlotte approached with Jane, her eyes caught movement in the morning-room window. She looked over to see Harriet watching her. When she lifted her hand in greeting, Harriet turned away. _

_ Perhaps Harriet had not seen her wave and was hastening to be situated for her call? Charlotte knocked on the door and was greeted by the butler. She gave her name and waited for a moment, still on the step, which was unusual. Typically she was welcomed into the hall while she waited to be announced when calling. _

_ A short time later, the butler returned to her. _

_ “I’m sorry, Miss Wood, but Miss Harriet is not at home.” _

_ “Are you certain?” she asked. _

_ “Quite certain,” came the response from the butler, whose composed face gave away nothing. _

_ She thanked him and turned, walking down the steps to Jane so that they could return home, her feet feeling much heavier on the return trip. _

_ Had she not glimpsed Harriet through the window, she might have been able to tell herself that Harriet was out calling upon others and that she had chosen the wrong time to visit. She would have believed it until several calls had gone unwelcomed and unreturned. _

_ But she could not deny the evidence provided by her own eyes. It was clear that this was not the case, and that Harriet did not wish to associate with her. The rejection was a sharp sting that pierced through the dull ache that had permeated the past month. _

_ No matter. She would go back for the carriage and pay a call to Eleanor instead. Squaring her shoulders, she held her head high the rest of the way home, although conversation was much more sparse than on the walk to the Partridges’. _

**

The carriage pulled up to the Easton home, situated down a quiet lane with trees that created a lovely canopy for much of the year. Their home was slightly more modest than the Woodridge estate, Eleanor’s father having made his fortune in trade and not inheriting it from family. But it was beautifully kept, impeccably decorated, and Eleanor’s family had always made Charlotte feel welcome. Their love and support never wavered.

Eleanor herself had been indignant when Charlotte had relayed Harriet Partridge’s snubbing of her those few months ago. “The nerve! You have always been nothing but gracious and kind to her, even when her own family went through” (and here she lowered her voice to a whisper, despite no one else being in the room) “_ the trouble _.” 

“It is of no importance,” said Charlotte, despite knowing that Eleanor was aware she was not being entirely truthful. “I still have you, and that is all I need.”

Eleanor had embraced her, and then had tactfully and skillfully changed the subject, keeping Charlotte entertained and her spirits up for the rest of the afternoon.

Now she was shown into the drawing room, where Eleanor and her mother were doing some needlework. They both greeted her warmly and were about to invite her to sit when Charlotte asked if Eleanor would like to take a walk with her. Eleanor looked to her mother, who nodded, and went to get her pelisse and bonnet, donning both as they went to the front door and exited the home.

Their steps took them towards the stream that ran through the Eastons’ property. They spoke of inconsequential things on the way, simply enjoying being together, until they reached a sheltered spot near the stream bank.

“Now, my friend, tell me what is on your mind,” said Eleanor.

She always knew when something was weighing on Charlotte, ever since they were young girls. She knew when Charlotte needed someone to sit quietly and just be with her, and when Charlotte needed to talk, and she sensed that it was the latter in this case.

“I’ve met someone. A man,” she began, as Eleanor’s brows rose.

“No, it is nothing. Not yet. I do not know if it will ever be anything. But--oh, Eleanor! He is the best man I have ever met. I will admit that it was his appearance that I noticed first, but it would be nothing without his humour, his intelligence, his graciousness, and his kindness.”

She proceeded to tell Eleanor everything, from the first mortifying meeting at Tibbetts and Plumptre, to the delightful dinner at Woodridge with his thought-provoking comments to her afterward, to their encounter in Page’s Bookshop. 

“Papa is inviting both Mr. Plumptre and Mr. Tibbetts, along with Mr. Tibbetts’ family, for luncheon.”

“So you will be seeing him again, and soon!”

Charlotte’s cheeks pinked prettily at the thought of seeing John again. “Yes, but I do not know if we’ll have any time together. There will be quite a few of us.”

“Do you have feelings for Mr. Plumptre, Charlotte?’

She stared at Eleanor for a moment, thinking about how to answer her. She had always been completely honest with her, but she had never felt like this before.

“Yes, I have some sort of feelings for him. Quite strong ones, to be truthful. I do not know if I love him yet, but I do believe that I very easily could, were he to encourage it.”

Eleanor looked very seriously at her and did not speak for a moment. When she did, her words surprised Charlotte.

“I believe Mr. Plumptre already cares for you, Charlotte. I would even say that he fancies you.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Charlotte, feeling hope grow in her heart even as her head tried to tell her not to become carried away and expect something that may never happen.

“He noticed your distress during your initial meeting and found a way to remove you from the situation that was distressing you. He somehow happened to be the one who brought the paperwork to your father, and at a time when there was a very good chance that he would encounter you, and then spent the evening winning over your entire family. He commented, quite astutely, as to Mr. Saunderson’s lack of intelligence in giving you up - and referred to you as a ‘precious gift,’ I would add. And he volunteered to be the one to inform you as to your father’s whereabouts and escort you to his office from the bookshop.

“It would seem to me that he is looking for ways to be near you, and to perhaps indicate his interest as discreetly as possible in a time when open courting may not be advisable. He is aware of how many people are watching you closely for any sign of truth in the accusations of the past. It is unfair, but it is the nature of some people. He likely does not wish to do anything too overt that will cause new rumours to begin circulating. I think that he is being wise and that he will make his intentions known to you as soon as it is prudent to do so.”

Charlotte did not answer but mulled over all that Eleanor had said. Her friend always gave matters her careful consideration and was not one to come to a hasty or foolish conclusion. If she thought that Mr. Plumptre had feelings for her, perhaps he did. Only time would tell, and it would not do to dwell on the matter to excess.

**

It was the last Saturday in November, and Mr. Plumptre and the Tibbetts family were expected for luncheon at one o’clock. Mrs. Carter had been outdoing herself preparing some of her best dishes, and Anne and Louisa were excited to eat every one of them, particularly the multiple puddings that she had been making.

Charlotte’s stomach was fluttering nervously as the time drew near. She found herself repeatedly fidgeting with her hair, much to her own annoyance, and smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress.

At last, the time of their arrival was nearly upon them, and Charlotte went downstairs to wait in the drawing room with the rest of her family. She picked up one of her favourite books but could not keep her mind on the text and promptly set it down on a nearby table.

Charlotte jumped at the knock on the door, even though she had been anticipating it. She sat up even straighter and watched the doorway, trying not to stare in a fashion that would be unbecoming to a lady.

The family stood as their guests were ushered into the drawing room and introductions were made. First was Mr. Tibbets and his wife, Caroline. She had a ready smile, and Charlotte found her immensely likable. It was also clear that Mr. Tibbetts doted upon his wife, as she did upon him. Charlotte was sure that they would be fine companions at the table.

They introduced their four young children as well. 12-year-old Sarah appeared to be of a shy temperament, but Charlotte was sure that Louisa and Anne would quickly draw her out and make her feel welcome. James Jr., whom the family called Jamie, was 9 and had a mischievous gleam in his eye. Charlotte guessed that his parents had quite the job of it keeping him out of trouble at times, but the boy was polite and engaging and would no doubt grow into a fine man under his parents’ guidance.

Benjamin, 7, was quiet like his older sister, but his eyes kept darting to the shelves of books with a look of anticipation. He would likely wish to be back in this room as soon as lunch was over, if he was able to sneak away. Then there was 4-year-old Rebecca, who charmed Charlotte and the rest of the Wood family instantly with her dimpled smile and sparkling blue eyes. She was blonde like her mother, as were her two older brothers. Sarah, on the other hand, had chocolate brown hair that Charlotte assumed must have come from her father, although what was left of Mr. Tibbetts’ hair was now more salt-and-pepper in colour.

Charlotte was so taken with Rebecca that she had crouched down to speak with her, holding the girl’s hands and asking her questions. She stood back up to see Mr. Plumptre standing in the doorway to the drawing room, watching her with an odd look on his face.

John had nearly had the breath knocked out of him when it was at last his turn to step into the drawing room and he had seen Charlotte with the Tibbetts’ youngest child. He could well picture Charlotte as the mother to such a young girl. He thought that she would be a wonderful mother and longed to see it firsthand. He knew that he should not indulge himself in such thoughts, but the scene before him made that a challenge.

He was still watching Charlotte when she stood up and her eyes met his. They held one another’s gaze for a moment until he heard his name spoken by her father, then he turned with a smile to shake the man’s hand. As he had already met everyone in the family, they all exchanged the appropriate bows and curtsies, then took their seats in the room until they were called to the dining room for lunch.

With the six younger members of their party, lunch was an entertaining affair. Mr. Tibbetts had a dry wit that was evident throughout the meal, and Charlotte thought that he and his wife were well matched. Although the children were all well-behaved, it was apparent by the dessert course that some of the youngest would soon be in need of fresh air and a break from more formal behaviour.

Their fathers excused them as the adults returned to the drawing room to continue their visit. Anne and Louisa had decided to take the Tibbetts children to see the horses in the stable, stopping by the kitchen for a few carrots and apples to feed them.

The adults resettled themselves in the drawing room and conversation turned to literature. Charlotte was seated near Mr. Tibbetts, with Mr. Plumptre in a chair on the other side. 

She took the opportunity to turn to Mr. Tibbetts and quietly say, “Thank you, sir, for thinking to include the newspaper notice in the agreement with Mr. Saunderson. I do not expect it to eradicate the rumours completely, but perhaps it will change their tenor to reflect more positively on my family. Regardless, it did my soul a world of good to see the words in print and know that Mr. Saunderson was made to take responsibility for once.”

“Mr. Plumptre was the one to devise that part of the agreement,” said Mr. Tibbetts, much to Charlotte’s surprise. “As a matter of fact, he insisted upon taking the documents to Mr. Saunderson personally and was determined not to return without his signature upon all of them.”

Charlotte looked at John to see his face flushing and his eyes lowered. He was near enough to hear their discussion. It was obvious that he was aware that his actions had been made known to Charlotte, and that he had had no expectation of receiving credit for them. Why that should cause him to appear so flustered, she was not sure.

Her musings were interrupted when the children came tramping back in from their visit to the stables. Charlotte knew that they would have difficulty sitting back down for quiet conversation, so she excused herself, offering to take them all to the gardens for a game of hide and seek.

Rebecca took her hand and tugged, whispering in Charlotte’s ear when she bent down to be closer to her.

“What is it, sweetheart?” asked her father.

“Could Mr. Plumptre come play with us, too?” she asked.

“I would be more than happy to do so, Miss Rebecca,” answered John with a ready smile, excusing himself as well.

Charlotte went and got her cloak, wrapping it around herself as they went outside. Rebecca had immediately taken hold of her hand again as soon as it was free, while she held Mr. Plumptre’s hand in her small fingers on the other side. Charlotte stole a sidelong glance to see how John was responding to this familiarity. He was talking with Rebecca and wore a broad, open smile. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, it was not difficult to imagine that John was a father out walking with his own daughter, a thought that made Charlotte’s heart ache with a strange kind of sweetness.

When they reached the gardens, Charlotte asked, “Who shall be the first seeker?”

“Mr. Plumptre!” cried Rebecca, and the other children took up the call.

“Is that agreeable to you, sir?” asked Charlotte, smiling up at him.

“I shall perform whatever task is required of me, Miss Wood, to the best of my ability,” he answered in mock seriousness, capping it off with a small salute.

“With so many hiding, I believe that it is my solemn duty to help you seek,” she answered in kind.

The children scattered as Mr. Plumptre counted to thirty, then he and Charlotte began to search for them.

Charlotte was walking among the hedges, thinking that area would be a marvelous hiding place, when she happened upon John who had the same thought. She had wanted to thank John for what he had done, but had not known if an appropriate opportunity to do so would arise. Before her courage left her, she spoke.

“Mr. Plumptre, I do not imagine that an apology in the newspaper is typically a part of a breach of promise agreement. What made you think to include it in the terms?”

“It was clear that your family had been done a great wrong by Mr. Saunderson and that you were the ones to suffer for it. You, in particular, Miss Wood. I wanted to do all that I could to make it right for you. For your family, that is. You are a very special...family, and I hoped that it might help in some way to have Mr. Saunderson admit what he had done.”

“It does, more than I can say. And you delivered the paperwork to Mr. Saunderson yourself?” she asked.

He nodded with the slightest of movement.

“Why?”

“I wanted to see what such an utter fool looked like.”

Charlotte laughed at that as John briefly recalled his visit to the ill-mannered man. Once Saunderson knew who John was and why he was there, any pretense of gentility was discarded. He had barely observed basic civility, although John would not stoop to his level.

In fact, he took great pleasure in expressing why it would be in Mr. Saunderson’s best interests to sign the agreement and to accede to the notice and its wording that John himself had written and intended to place as soon as possible. John wanted it to be clear that the fault was solely Charles’, and to keep it succinct so as not to offer any possibilities for misinterpretation.

Although not prone to violence in a general sense, John would have gladly thrashed Saunderson had the man given him a reason but, much to his disappointment, he had not. Still, he was quite content to take his leave of him, and with the paperwork that would allow the Woods to finally put this ugly incident firmly in the past.

All of this ran through his mind as he watched Charlotte’s expressions change, and he was sure that she knew exactly what had happened and how Saunderson had been persuaded. Her smile became gentle as a softness shone in her eyes. She glanced around them, seeing that they were still alone, then slowly drew ever nearer, watching his reaction carefully.

He knew that Charlotte was moving with caution because she did not wish to make him uncomfortable, nor to offend him in any way, but there was no chance of that happening. He stood stock-still as she inched closer before placing a hand lightly on his cheek. He longed to lean his face into it but refrained. 

Charlotte was very close now. She searched his face for a moment, then spoke. “Thank you for seeing this to completion, and for thinking of the newspaper notice, and for personally ensuring that Mr. Saunderson complied with all of it. You have done more for me and my family than you could possibly imagine, and I cannot express in words how much it means to me.”

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a feather-light kiss to John’s cheek. He turned the slightest bit towards her, and their mouths were only a breath apart. His breathing quickened, as did his heartbeat, and the drive to close the gap between them became unbearable to resist, impropriety be hanged.

“Mr. Plumptre!” sounded a young voice from a not-too-distant hiding place.

Charlotte and John jumped at the sound and stepped apart.

John cleared his throat before speaking. “Yes, coming! I hope you’ve found yourselves exceedingly difficult hiding places because I am quite good at seeking!” he called out, to the sound of their giggles.

Charlotte’s gaze was on the ground as she spoke. “I am sorry for being so forward, Mr. Plumptre. I have never kissed a man before, my father being the exception. I hope you will not judge me too harshly.”

She began to turn away, but John took hold of her hand and carefully turned her to face him. When she would not look at him, he used his other hand to lift her chin. When she finally met his eyes, he spoke. His voice was lower than it usually was, and there was a roughness to it that she had not heard before.

“I do not judge you at all, Miss Wood. I am honoured to have been the recipient of your attentions and will treasure this moment always. But I believe that we are about to be discovered if we continue to linger, and I do not wish to force you into an uncomfortable situation were that to be the case. I have more to say, but I fear it is too soon. So I must hold my tongue for now, but rest assured that your kiss was most welcome.”

Now it was Charlotte’s heartbeat that quickened, and she found herself wishing that she was not wearing gloves. She yearned to know what it felt like to have his warm skin against hers. But she knew that he was correct in what he’d said, and that the children would be getting restless soon if they did not start seeking them as promised.

Smiling brightly, she called out, “Ready or not, here we come!” then she and John went off in search of the hidden, to many squeals of delight and excitement.

**

December 6, 1816

It had been nearly a week since the luncheon. Charlotte had not had any more time alone with Mr. Plumptre before his return to town with the Tibbetts family. He had not been back to Woodridge since the luncheon, nor she to town. She wondered when she might see him again, or if she would see him again. Was Eleanor mistaken about his affections for her? It had certainly not seemed so when they were in the gardens together.

Charlotte was in the parlour completing some embroidery when the day’s post arrived. She was surprised when an envelope of thick cream paper with her name written on the front of it was brought to her.

Opening it up, she pulled out a card on heavy cardstock and read:

  
**Lady Torrington  
** **At Home  
** **On Saturday the 21st of December  
** **At 8:00 pm**

**Lavender Manor**

**The favour of an answer** ** is requested**

**Dancing** **Dining**

  
Charlotte’s surprise had turned to shock. She had never been introduced to Lady Torrington, but everyone in Carshalton and the surrounding area was well aware of who she was. She was not sure what she had done to gain the countess’ attention, as well as an invitation to a private ball at her home, but she was not about to miss out on such an experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Caffiend, for your continued beta-reading skills and encouragement!


	5. A Yuletide Assignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte attend Lady Torrington's ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Caffiend, for the beta! You're the best!

Lady Torrington walked through the ballroom, looking over everything with satisfaction. Her servants were always supremely efficient, and she knew that her every request would have been carried out to the letter and at the highest level of performance. They took pride in their work and were happy with their positions at Lavender Manor, as the countess was a generous and kind mistress.

Every bit of metal gleamed, from the candelabra on the tables and the chandeliers up above to the platters that would be brought out later for supper. The mirrors that had been placed around the ballroom to magnify and reflect the candlelight were sparkling clean, and the reflections added to the warmth that the candles gave off with their flickering light. The floors had been cleaned, then decorated with a chalk design to prevent the feet of the dancers from slipping. Guest rooms had been prepared for those who were traveling from longer distances, or for those locals who might indulge in too many spirits to be able to travel home safely directly afterward.

Flowers from the estate hothouse were arranged in simple yet beautiful bouquets throughout all of the rooms that would be used during the ball, lending their delicate fragrance to the enjoyment of attendees. Garlands of greenery and holly berries were strung along the balustrade in front of the mezzanine at one end of the ballroom. The musicians would be sitting there throughout the dance, and they were tuning their instruments in preparation.

Greenery and holly berries also bedecked the tables and seating areas around the edges of the ballroom floor and the mantel of the great fireplace in the room, as well as the other areas that had been prepared for this evening. There was a card room adjacent to the ballroom, where men who did not wish to participate in the dancing or who were in need of respite from the festivities could still look on while playing. There were retiring rooms, one for men and one for women, where they could remove their outerwear and change into appropriate footwear.

There was also the supper-room where guests would later in the evening be treated to an elaborate feast. Even now, the cook and her kitchen staff were busily at work, making foods that could wait to be served and preparing what they could for the dishes that would need to be cooked closer to serving time. Lady Torrington always wanted to ensure that her guests were well-fed, and the menu that evening was comprised of some fifty dishes.

Outside, she knew that the torches lining the drive had been lit to ensure the safety of guests as their carriages proceeded up the path. She had planned the ball to occur during the full moon, of course, but Lady Torrington always liked to provide the additional light.

Yes, everything was in full readiness. Now all that was needed were the guests. She liked to vary her guest list when possible, wanting to host as many people from the village as she could over time. But Carshalton was so large that there were still many people whose acquaintance she had not yet made. That was the beauty of hosting a private ball; everyone was considered to have been introduced if they were on the guest list, which made forming acquaintances less complicated and removed some of the barriers for a man who wanted to invite a woman to dance, or for a woman to speak to a man.

Lady Torrington observed proper etiquette, as was expected, but she also was not one to stand on unnecessary ceremony. A bluestocking, she had learned long ago to be unconcerned with the approval of others. She quite enjoyed removing barriers and making things simpler.

She was in a state of high anticipation regarding meeting Miss Charlotte Wood and her family. She had heard the rumours; they had been spread with such a shocking lack of restraint that she could not have avoided them. But she did not put much stock in rumours, having been the victim of them herself in the past. She was well aware that tales took on a life of their own when spread by gossips and allowed to fester. After she had heard Mr. John Plumptre’s passionate defence of Miss Wood in the bookshop, she had determined to include the young woman and her family on the guest list she had been making, as well as Mr. Plumptre himself, once she had discovered his identity with discreet inquiries.

Those inquiries had also provided her with the names of two other families that she had invited as well: the Eastons, family of Charlotte’s friend, Eleanor; and Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts, the business partner of Mr. Plumptre, and his wife. She had known the Tibbettses previously as she had hosted them at her gatherings before, but she had never met the young Mr. Plumptre after Mr. Tibbetts had taken him on as a partner.

It was important to her that Charlotte feel a sense of comfort at the ball, and familiar faces would help in that regard. Additionally, she had invited Mr. Page, the bookseller, and his wife. She had seen his support of Mr. Plumptre in the shop and suspected that he would be a fine addition to the list.

She was looking forward to making all of their acquaintances over the course of the evening.

**

The carriage conveying Charlotte, Edmund, and their parents to Lavender Manor was drawing ever closer as Charlotte’s excitement became increasingly difficult to conceal. She had been marking the days to this event ever since the family had received their invitations, and now that it was upon them, she could hardly contain herself.

She knew that Eleanor and her family had also been invited and was greatly relieved to know that she would have at least one friend among those attending the ball. This was Charlotte’s first major social event since the scandal had occurred, and she was unsure how she would be received. Eleanor’s parents and her brother, Alexander, were all coming with her as well, and she would enjoy seeing them all again. Her mind went to other possibilities for the guest list, but she did not allow herself to linger there long as she had no way of knowing if he would be there. She did not want to be disappointed if he was not.

The Wood family’s carriage was now rolling along the torchlit path leading to the Manor, and Charlotte was hard-pressed not to lean forward and gawk out of the window like an undisciplined child at the impressive building up ahead. Having to be a refined young woman could be quite vexing at times like this.

She managed to make polite conversation and keep her hands from fidgeting in the folds of her cloak as they drove the final distance to where the carriages were stopping in order to allow guests to alight. The footman jumped down and hastened to open the carriage door. Her father stepped down first, helping his wife, then Charlotte, before stepping back to allow Edmund to descend.

Charlotte was grateful for her lined woolen cloak as she stepped out into the chilly night air. She pulled the scarlet fabric more closely around her body as she waited for Edmund. Charlotte allowed herself one moment to marvel at the beautiful building that rose up into the night sky and seemed to stretch out forever on either side. This was by far the grandest home in the entire county, and she was overwhelmed by the thought of being a guest there that evening. She took a calming breath and called upon years of training in proper behaviour to school her features into something resembling serene before being escorted through the front entrance to meet Lady Torrington after first stopping by the retiring rooms.

**

John’s fingers drummed out a beat upon his thigh as the carriage in which he was riding approached the entrance. Mr. Tibbetts had invited him to share their carriage upon discovering that they had all received invitations to the event, and he had happily accepted. He would have otherwise had to hire a carriage for the evening, or risk riding on horseback and hoping that the weather did not take a turn for the worse while he was there.

He thought that he knew why he had been invited based upon Lady Torrington’s response at the bookshop. She was an observant woman of good sense, and one of compassion, he suspected. He hoped that he would have the opportunity to converse with her and discover more about their intriguing hostess.

He also had high hopes that Lady Torrington had invited Charlotte and her family, as she was likely the catalyst for his own invitation. He did not want to think about how crestfallen he would feel if Charlotte was not in attendance that night.

He was embarrassed to realise that Mrs. Tibbetts had been addressing him as he had been woolgathering.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“I said that your attention seems elsewhere, Mr. Plumptre. Is there something, or someone, on your mind?” she asked, eyes twinkling as if she already knew the answer.

“I am simply looking forward to the entertainments of the evening, Mrs. Tibbetts,” he answered, knowing he had been caught out. Thankfully, Mrs. Tibbetts allowed his answer to go unchallenged as their carriage was coming to a stop near the front steps of the Manor.

**

Lady Torrington had been receiving guests for a short while when her butler announced the arrival of the Woods. She turned her attention to the young woman and her family. She thought the girl was absolutely lovely, with her fair skin and her shiny brown hair that showed tones of red in the candlelight. There were ribbons woven through her curled updo, and tiny white fabric roses were tucked into it. She was wearing a short-sleeved evening dress in a fine red silk net with an underdress of white silk. The dress had been embroidered with flowers and leaves around the bottom hem, the edges of the sleeves, across the bodice, and around the neckline. Her long white gloves were also of silk.

She looked attractive and festive, and the colour and fit merely enhanced Charlotte’s own beauty. As she drew near to be introduced, Lady Torrington noticed Charlotte’s intelligent green eyes. She was sure that this young woman had a quick mind and an attentive nature.

“Your Ladyship, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wood, Miss Charlotte Wood, and Mr. Edmund Wood?”

Thomas and Edmund gave slight bows of their heads as Margaret and Charlotte each dipped in a small curtsy.

Lady Torrington was keenly aware of the quiet that had descended upon the ballroom as eyes turned to surreptitiously watch their exchange. She spoke in a clear and resounding voice.

“I am so pleased that you were all able to come. I have been eager to make your family’s acquaintance. How was your journey? I understand you live some seven miles from here?”

The Woods were astonished both by the countess’ friendly demeanor and by the fact that she not only seemed to know who they were, but where they lived. They were also well aware that all of this was being observed and would no doubt be spoken about at some length by those in attendance, as well as those with whom they spoke afterward. The countess was making a clear effort to not only welcome them, but to ensure that their conversation was widely witnessed, and they were grateful for her kindness on their behalf.

“We thank you, Your Ladyship. Yes, our estate, Woodridge, is nearly seven miles due east of Lavender Manor,” answered Thomas.

“I should like to call upon you, now that we are becoming friends,” she said. This she stated to Margaret.

The Woods could hear quiet gasps from some of those in the ballroom. Their complete acceptance by a member of the nobility after the family’s last several tumultuous months had taken some of the observers by surprise. Others, who knew Lady Torrington’s compassionate nature and lack of concern for convention, and who had been skeptical about the scurrilous claims from the outset, were gratified.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship. We would be honoured by your visit, whenever it is convenient,” said Margaret.

Next, she addressed Charlotte. “Miss Wood, I understand that you are an avid reader. Perhaps we can discuss our favourite books when I call upon your family.” 

Lady Torrington could see the tears welling up in Charlotte’s eyes and was anxious to prevent any embarrassment for her, but she had underestimated Charlotte’s steely determination. She watched as the young woman squared her shoulders the tiniest bit, smiled brightly, then spoke.

“I would enjoy that very much, Your Ladyship. Thank you,” she said, in a clear, dulcet voice.

Finally, she turned to Edmund. “Mr. Wood, I do hope that you are planning to dance this evening. If not, I fear that there may be some very disappointed young ladies here tonight,” she teased.

Edmund coloured slightly but was clearly pleased by the implied compliment. “I quite enjoy dancing, Your Ladyship, and will happily do so tonight.”

“Please do tell me if there is anything you need for your comfort this evening. There are also servants located near the entrances, and they will be happy to see to your satisfaction in any way they may.”

With that, they parted from Lady Torrington to make their way further into the ballroom. It was a happy surprise indeed to find Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts nearby, and they went to greet them. Charlotte’s efforts to covertly glance about the room as they approached did not go unnoticed by Mrs. Tibbetts. She greeted Charlotte and leaned closer to quietly ask, “Are you looking for someone, dear?”

Charlotte’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks gave her away. Mrs. Tibbetts could not bear to tease her further.

“I believe if you but look behind you, you may find what you are seeking.”

Charlotte’s heart pounded as she turned, at last seeing the face that had never been far from her thoughts during the last three weeks. John bowed his head as she dropped a curtsy. She felt strangely shy in front of him. Their last encounter had resulted in unplanned intimacy, and although he had reassured her that it was welcome, their time apart had caused doubts to spring up within her.

He was also looking incredibly handsome in his black tailcoat worn over a pale blue brocade waistcoat, a cravat at his throat. Rather than breeches, he was wearing the longer, closer-fitting pantaloons that were becoming so popular with young men. They showed his muscled thighs to their advantage, she could not help noticing. 

“Miss Wood, it is my genuine pleasure to see you again,” he said in his resonant voice. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but was held in check, although she was unsure by what. His eyes moved down her body before quickly returning to her face, causing her cheeks to colour and a shiver to run down her spine as she answered.

“It is lovely to see you as well, Mr. Plumptre.”

“Are you chilled, Miss Wood? Perhaps we should move closer to the fire so that you may warm yourself.”

On the contrary, Charlotte felt a bit warm, but she allowed John to lead her over to the fireplace nonetheless, using the time to try to compose herself.

**

John had arrived with Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts a quarter-hour before the Wood family had made their appearance. He paid his respects to Lady Torrington and thanked her for the invitation, to which she replied that she was always glad to welcome young men of character to her home. She gave him a knowing smile as they both recalled their previous encounter.

“Your Ladyship, if I may be so bold, may I request the honour of a dance?” he asked.

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre. You may partner me for the first set. I presume you know the minuet? It may be passing out of fashion, but I still prefer to open a ball with it.”

“I do know the minuet, my lady, thank you. I shall look forward to it,” he said, before bowing his head and moving on to greet others of his acquaintance.

Spying Mr. Page and his wife over near the windows, John approached them. He discovered that although Mrs. Page was quiet, she was an intelligent and well-read woman, although he would have expected no less from the wife of a bookseller. The three of them spoke of their favourite novels, giving one another recommendations, then John asked what books their children enjoyed.

Mrs. Page had just finished telling him when Mr. Page glanced over by the door. “Ah, there’s Miss Wood and her family. I did so hope that she would be invited this evening.”

John struggled to maintain a sense of self-possession once he had heard that Charlotte was here, so eager was he to see and talk with her again. He extricated himself from the Pages in as courteous a manner as possible, then turned to find Charlotte speaking with Lady Torrington.

The rhythm of his heart began to pick up its pace as he watched her from the short distance away from where he was standing. It was apparent that the countess was being a gracious hostess and immediately setting Charlotte and her family at ease, and he was grateful to her. Once she had spoken to Edmund, the family moved on, and Charlotte’s head turned just a bit, glancing subtly around the ballroom as her family approached Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts.

John was walking over to join the group when Charlotte turned unexpectedly, catching him off his guard. She was always beautiful, but her appearance this evening was utterly captivating. Red was a becoming colour on her, and the cut of the dress highlighted her slim figure.

Charlotte returned his bow with a curtsy, and he swallowed before finding the words to speak.

“Miss Wood, it is my genuine pleasure to see you again.” Nerves caused him to keep his smile in check as he waited for her reply, but he could not help looking at her in her evening dress and he found his eyes wandering down her figure before he quickly brought them back to her face.

“It is lovely to see you as well, Mr. Plumptre,” she responded. He saw her shiver as she replied.

“Are you chilled, Miss Wood? Perhaps we should move closer to the fire so that you may warm yourself.”

**

The two stood facing the fire, an awkward silence between them.

“Mr. Plumptre, I--”  
“Miss Wood, would you--”

Both began to speak and then just as suddenly stopped again, looking sidelong at one another with shy smiles before turning to face each other.

“You are breathtaking, Miss Wood,” said John, speaking before his deeply-ingrained restraint could stop the words from emerging.

Charlotte’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed pink.

“I beg your pardon, I have been too bold,” he said, fearing that he had made her uncomfortable.

“No, no, you haven’t,” she answered, her hand lifting as if to reach out to him before she quickly returned it to her side, aware that they were under the watchful gaze of many.

“Then if you will forgive another impertinent statement, I confess that I have been longing to see you again. I have thought of little else since we last parted.”

“Is that so?” she asked, a sweetly playful grin now on her face.

“It is. Had you not come tonight, I would have contrived an excuse, no matter how ridiculous, to visit Woodridge again.”

“If we are sharing confessions, I must divulge that I have been most anxious to see you as well,” she said.

John looked so pleased by her admission that it was impossible for Charlotte to feel self-conscious. She would never before have dreamed of speaking so brazenly to a man, but there was something about John that made her want to set aside all rules of propriety, were it not for the judgment of others.

“I suppose we should both express our most heartfelt gratitude to Lady Torrington for ending our torment,” said John with a twinkle in his eye and a smile that was contagious. “Miss Wood, may I request the honour of partnering you for the supper set? I should like nothing so well as having you by my side throughout supper this evening.”

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre. Yes, I shall reserve that set for you,” she answered, so pleased by his request. The thought of dancing with him later, then being by his side for supper, made her heart flutter and her face feel warm. She would have loved nothing more than to be alongside him all evening, but they had already been on their own for several minutes and gossip would run rampant if their time alone continued.

“My family will surely wish to greet you. Shall we join them?” she asked.

Charlotte’s family was still speaking with the Tibbettses, who were now being introduced to the Pages. It was a merry few minutes of visiting that was made all the merrier by the arrival of Eleanor and her family. Charlotte’s heart leapt with joy as she embraced her dear friend.

In addition to Eleanor and her parents, Eleanor’s 19-year-old brother, Alexander, was also in attendance. Where Eleanor was fair-haired and diminutive, he was dark-haired, with a height and broad build that had always caused him to appear older than his years. Charlotte had known him all his life, and he was like another younger brother to her.

As introductions were made, Charlotte saw Eleanor’s eyes widen fractionally in recognition when she met John. She knew that Eleanor would be avidly observing both of them this night.

Couples were moving on to the ballroom floor to line up for the first dance, the minuet that Lady Torrington had promised John. Charlotte had not been asked for the first set, so she took one of the seats at the edge of the room in order to observe the dancing. She hoped that she would be dancing more than just the supper set that evening, but at least she had that to anticipate.

Charlotte felt a twinge of jealousy as she watched John stand up opposite the countess. She knew that, as a young man in attendance at a ball, he was expected to dance all dances if he was able to do so, and she would not give in to an irrational desire to keep him all to herself. Yet the desire was there nonetheless.

Charlotte heard the murmurs around her as the attendees saw that Lady Torrington would be dancing that evening. It had been some time since she had opened a ball she hosted, or even danced at another social event, so it was causing quite a stir. Some were already acquainted with John, and those who were not were quickly finding out about him in whispered conversation. Everyone wanted to know who had persuaded the countess to take part.

Just as the musicians were about to begin, a shadow fell over Charlotte’s lap. She looked up and saw Alexander standing in front of her.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Wood?” he asked, with a ready smile and an easy manner.

“I would be delighted, Mr. Easton!” she answered with both relief and happiness, and they took their places at the end of one of the groups, ready to begin.

**

Lady Torrington was so pleased to see that Charlotte had a partner for the first set. She would have hated to have seen Miss Wood continue to sit by the sidelines and would have personally ensured her a partner for the second set had that happened.

It felt strange to be standing on a dance floor once again. She had chosen others to lead the first dance in nearly every ball and soiree she had thrown since her dear Richard’s untimely death. In the past, she had taken such joy in leading them with him, but joy had been in short supply since his passing. 

Still, she had come to the realisation in recent months that it was time to live more fully again. Richard would not have wanted her to spend the rest of her existence in a half-life, grieving his absence. When Mr. Plumptre had requested a dance, it seemed the perfect opportunity to begin to move forward while also bringing some positive attention to the young man.

They stood at the ready as the musicians lifted their instruments to begin playing.

**

John’s heart sank as he watched Charlotte find a seat on one of the benches that had been placed at the edges of the room. He was disheartened that she had not been asked to dance the first set. He was beginning to feel guilty about saving his request for the supper set when he saw a dark-haired man approach Charlotte and speak to her.

She smiled and stood, walking with him to the end of one of the other groups and getting into position to start. He realised that it was Eleanor’s brother - Alexander, was it? - who had asked Charlotte to dance. He was rather a handsome young man, now that John was taking a closer look at him.

Relief that Charlotte was not being spurned warred with a possessiveness within him. He was surprised at the feeling that was threatening to overtake him, but he forced himself to refocus on the task ahead of him. He would not dishonour Lady Torrington by behaving like a troglodyte.

Although they were dancing in different groups, John was getting regular glimpses of Charlotte as they moved through the motions of the dance. It seemed that she was laughing frequently, as was Mr. Easton. Her face seemed even more radiant when it was illuminated with laughter, and he again found himself struggling to keep his mind on his own dance partner.

As was the custom, Lady Torrington engaged him in conversation when they would come together within the movements of the dance. At first, they were both remarking on the talent of the musicians, and John complimented the decor. Then the talk took a turn as she spoke quietly.

“Mr. Plumptre, I hope that I am not making you uncomfortable in bringing this up, but I feel that I must tell you how impressed I was by your defence of Miss Wood a few weeks ago in the bookshop. I have never had a tolerance for gossip, having felt the barbs myself on too many occasions, and I had heard enough about the situation to surmise that Miss Wood had likely been wronged and left to suffer the consequences.

“Unfortunately, some are too small-minded to see the truth of a matter and would rather bandy about prurient rumours and vicious lies. Why they do this, I cannot imagine. Tell me, how do you know the Wood family?” she asked.

John wasn’t sure how much he should say. He did not wish to betray the family’s confidence or their faith in him as one of their lawyers. He decided to keep it simple.

“My law office has performed some work for the family in the past.”

As they separated, Lady Torrington gave John’s answer some thought. In reality, she was already aware of how John knew the family and that he and Mr. Tibbetts had orchestrated the quick and satisfactory resolution of Charlotte’s breach of promise case. Status and wealth allowed one to discover nearly anything one wanted, she had found over the years. She was even more impressed by this young man’s humility and his desire to protect Charlotte and the Wood family with his discretion.

When they came back together, she simply said, “I think that the Wood family is very fortunate to have such a good friend in you.”

Although her words gave nothing away, the expression she wore told him that she had perceived much more than she was saying.

Talk moved on to other subjects as the dance set continued. John found Lady Torrington to be an excellent dancer and a pleasant conversational partner, and the time went quickly. When the set was over, he thanked her and went in search of one of the servants, who were circulating with ices and alcohol-laced punches to refresh the warm and thirsty dancers.

He spied Charlotte, who he had half-expected to be speaking with Alexander. Instead, she was talking with her friend, Eleanor. Was Eleanor hoping that her dear friend would marry her brother and become her sister? Was Charlotte hoping the same, and she was only being kind previously? He had misread a woman before, and it had taken some time for his heart to recover from it.

He did not think Charlotte was toying with his heart, as Fanny seemed to have done, but it was difficult not to worry that she was doing so unknowingly. Or was he the one who was now being a fool, lacking faith in a woman who had given him no reason to do so? He felt an urgent need to speak with Charlotte, to be close to her again now that the dance was not separating them.

He drew nearer the two young women and moved to join them when Charlotte acknowledged his approach. “Miss Easton, did you enjoy the first set?”

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre. Yes, I did! It has been too long since the last dance I attended. Did you enjoy your dance with Lady Torrington?” she asked.

He thought he saw Charlotte stiffen a little at that question.

“Yes, thank you. She was quite graceful and a wonderful conversationalist. May I ask you for the next set, if you are not already engaged?” he asked.

He noticed Eleanor’s eyes dart to Charlotte, who he thought gave the tiniest nod, before returning to him.

“I would be most pleased, thank you, sir,” she answered. “If you will pardon me, I must find some punch and refresh myself before the next dance.”

“Of course,” he answered, and she walked away, leaving him alone with Charlotte.

“And you, Miss Wood - did you enjoy the first set?” he asked, holding his breath a little as he waited for Charlotte’s answer.

“Yes, I did, Mr. Plumptre. I had thought that I would be sitting out the first set and hoped to be asked for the second, but Mr. Easton rescued me.”

“Are you close to Mr. Easton?” he asked. He knew that he was pushing the bounds of propriety in asking, but he could not seem to keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Oh, yes! We practically grew up together. I have known him since his birth,” she said, causing his heart to sink.

“I see,” he responded.

Charlotte watched John’s face fall at her answer. She could not understand why he seemed crestfallen by her response. She was sure that he and Alexander would get along if they were to spend much time together. Why would he--

She followed John’s line of eyesight to see that he was watching Alexander. Looking at Eleanor’s “little” brother now, it occurred to her that he had grown into quite a handsome young man. She wondered if John might see him as a potential rival for her affections. Had he misinterpreted her ease with Alexander to be something else? She ached to set his mind to rest, if that was the case.

“Mr. Easton will be a wonderful match for some young lady one of these days. He is like another brother to me. Eleanor used to hope for a match between us, but I told her that I could never see him in anything other than a brotherly manner.”

Charlotte knew that their discussion might be considered inappropriate if anyone overheard, but she felt she must take the risk. As her words sunk in, she watched as John turned back to her with a relieved expression.

“Another brother?” he asked.

“Mm hmm,” she answered, nodding, and watched as a sweet smile appeared on his face. Suddenly the risk she had taken felt like nothing at all.

Eleanor rejoined them, having given them time to talk and refreshing herself in the meantime.

“What do you suppose the next dance will be?” she asked.

“A cotillion? Or a quadrille, perhaps?” said Charlotte.

In the end, it was neither. The second set consisted of a Boulanger, typically the last dance of a ball, and a Scotch Reel. Both were lively dances and the set was shorter than the first as a result, as Lady Torrington did not wish to tire out her guests so quickly.

Eleanor and John kept up with one another marvelously, as did Charlotte with her partner, Daniel Addicott, a young man from a neighbouring estate. The two couples were in the same group for the set, and theirs was a spirited assembly. They were all grateful for the iced refreshments that were served afterward.

Next, it was time for the supper set, an English Country Dance that would allow every couple participating the opportunity to be the lead couple at one point or another. With some forty couples dancing, it would be a lengthy set even with just one dance. Neither Charlotte nor John complained.

It sent a thrill through each of them every time they joined hands throughout the set, or even when they simply made eye contact, which was frequently. They both reveled in the opportunity to look at and touch each other at long last, each conscious of their own pounding heart.

Although the set lasted nearly an hour, it was as if the time flew by. The guests were soon ushered into the supper-room, located close by the ballroom. The tables were laden with every kind of sweet and savoury dish that anyone could possibly want.

Charlotte knew that she would have to choose carefully in order to have a taste of everything she wanted to try. As it was customary for gentlemen to serve food and pour wine for the ladies near them, John was quite solicitous in asking what Charlotte wanted and ensuring that she had all that she wished.

She felt so content, sitting by John’s side, eating and talking and enjoying his company. It brought her joy simply being with him. It was while he was telling her a humorous story from his childhood that she was suddenly stunned by a revelation: she was in love with John. She had never been in love before, but she knew with an absolute certainty that she loved him. 

He was a man of integrity who possessed a kind heart. He was courageous and clever. He cared deeply for others and was willing to take risks to help them.   
He seemed to enjoy making her laugh and looked very pleased with himself when he did. He was altogether a remarkable man. 

John was also exceedingly handsome, to the degree that she could think of no better word to describe him than “beautiful.” Charlotte could not deny that she felt a physical attraction to him that at times felt difficult to keep in check. Acknowledging this, even to herself, caused her cheeks to flame, something that did not go unnoticed by John.

“Miss Wood, are you feeling well?” he asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre, I am well,” she answered. She pulled her fan out of her reticule and began to fan herself with it, attempting to cool down her heated skin.

“You are too warm. Shall I escort you to the terrace for some fresh air?”

Charlotte saw that Mr. Plumptre’s concern for her wellbeing was beginning to draw the attention of others nearby. “Perhaps that would be best.”

**

Charlotte had stopped by the ladies’ retiring room for her cloak, fearing that the coolness outside would be too much of a contrast to the warmth of the supper-room, but she left it open, only fastening a button at her throat, and draped it over her shoulders so as not to feel overheated.

There were a few other hardy souls on the terrace when they stepped outside. It was a cold and crisp evening but the skies were clear, displaying what seemed to be thousands of twinkling stars. There was a great outdoor fireplace with a cheerful blaze for those who wished to warm themselves by the fire while outdoors.

They were quiet for a minute, sharing a companionable silence. John thought about Fanny rarely these days, but his thoughts drifted to her and the last time they had danced together. He recalled her comment made in frustration when he was struggling with dancing past midnight on Sunday.

“Your sisters are dancing, showing their thick ankles!” she had cried, much to his dismay. He was not sure why he had still wanted to dance with Fanny after that, but her derision made him feel ridiculous, and he did not wish to be ridiculous. He had shaken off his guilt, asked her to dance, and he had to admit that it was enjoyable. He was not as rigid now as he was then, not because his faith had changed but because he had learned to be less unyielding in how he applied it. 

But had he chosen to stop dancing at midnight this evening, he knew that Charlotte would not have treated him with such contempt. She had a fiery spirit, but she would never use it to cut others down. There was an empathy in her that was so appealing. Her laugh was as music to his ears, and he wanted to hear it as much as possible. She had a quick mind that she fed regularly with her beloved books, even if that was not considered fashionable, and she was unafraid of judgment for doing so. 

She had such a strength of character as well. He had seen it from their first meeting, and during every time he had been fortunate enough to be in her company since. And he was enchanted by her beauty - her glossy chestnut curls, creamy skin, rosy lips, and those intelligent, sparkling green eyes that had captivated him from the very first.

He looked to his right and saw her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the flames and the night sky. How he longed for her to be his!

But now he was being a poor companion. “Are you feeling better, Miss Wood?” he asked.

“Very much, thank you, Mr. Plumptre,” she answered, smiling brightly at him.

“You dance beautifully,” he said, watching as her expression looked both pleased and a bit flustered.

“Thank you, sir. As do you,” she said before looking away shyly.

He had not planned to say anything about his intentions so soon, but standing with her on the terrace, gazing at her beauty after enjoying her company for the past several hours, he could not seem to help himself.

“Miss Wood,” he began, stopping as Charlotte turned to face him. His serious tone had caused her eyes to widen with…anticipation? He hoped it was not apprehension. But he must push on and end his misery, one way or another.

“Miss Wood, I should like to call upon you. But I fear that it is too soon in the eyes of most. And while I am no longer as concerned about the judgment of others for my own sake, I am loathe to subject you to the slings and arrows that would no doubt follow if I were to openly declare myself now.”

A small frown appeared on Charlotte’s face. John did not know if it was because of his desire to call upon her or because he was telling her that he could not yet do so. He decided to soldier on.

“But if I were to find a way to call upon your entire family, perhaps…” he paused, watching the frown disappear and a smile start to pull at the corners of Charlotte’s enticing mouth. “Would you be agreeable to such a proposition?”

Now she was smiling openly at him, a smile that reached her beautifully sparkling eyes. “I would be most agreeable to that, Mr. Plumptre,” she said, causing John’s heart to lighten considerably.

“Splendid!” he cried before looking around to make sure that they were not being overheard. The others who had been on the terrace had already returned inside, so he was spared the embarrassment of calling attention to himself in such a way.

However, he was keenly aware that too much time alone would also not reflect well upon them, so he reluctantly suggested that they return to the ballroom to prepare for the next set. As they approached the doorway to go back inside, he looked up at the bough that was decorating the archway. He was surprised at the choice of greenery - mistletoe.

“How interesting! There’s mistletoe hanging above the doorway.”

“Is that really mistletoe?” asked Charlotte.

“It is. I can see the white berries from here. Are you familiar with the Norse myth about the plant?” he asked her.

“I confess that I have not studied Norse mythology. You shall have to enlighten me,” said Charlotte.

“There are some variations in the story, but the basics are essentially the same. When Odin’s son, Baldur, was prophesied to die, his mother, Frigg, the goddess of love, obtained promises from the plants and animals of the world not to kill Baldur. But she overlooked the humble mistletoe plant.

“Loki, the trickster god, used an arrow made out of mistletoe to kill Baldur. When Frigg wept over Baldur, some of her tears fell on the arrow and turned into white berries. As she placed the berries on Baldur’s wound, he was brought back to life. In joy and gratitude, Frigg gave her blessing to the mistletoe plant and promised a kiss to all who passed beneath it.”

“That is fascinating!” said Charlotte.

John hesitated, wondering if he dared to take the chance. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, bucking up his courage.

“Did you know that it’s bad luck to refuse a kiss beneath the mistletoe?” asked John.

“Yes, I believe I have heard that before,” said Charlotte, feeling surprisingly breathless.

“I should not like to bring about bad luck for anyone,” said John quietly.

“No, nor I,” Charlotte softly answered, as they inched closer to one another.

John took Charlotte’s hand, drawing her away from the open archway and just to the side of it, into a pocket that the light from the fireplace had not fully reached. He did not wish for this moment to be witnessed by anyone nor to risk any further scandal for Charlotte, but the urge to feel her lips against his was overwhelming. He did not think he could wait another minute to experience it.

John searched Charlotte’s face, wanting to ensure that he was not taking advantage or imposing his passion upon her against her will. When he hesitated, he heard her say in a voice that was barely above a whisper, “Please.”

He lowered his head and watched her eyes close just before his own did. He pressed his lips against hers with the lightest of touches and felt her respond, pressing back and moving her mouth against his. Her lips were soft and warm, and he could feel the heat of her body, standing so close.

John had never felt such desire for a woman before. He had liked Fanny, found her attractive, even had thought that he loved her. But he had never found chastity a difficult state to maintain when he was with her. He had never even kissed Fanny, or any woman, for that matter. He had long believed that any kind of physical intimacy belonged within the bonds of marriage. 

But the physical pull towards Charlotte was staggering. He longed to continue the kiss, to deepen it, to give in to his basest appetites and wrap his arms around Charlotte, pulling her tempting curves up against himself and pressing her body to his. He wanted to know how those curves would feel under his hands, and what it would feel like to have her hands upon his own body. 

But such thoughts could quickly lead to danger, and they were already taking quite a risk by kissing out on the terrace where anyone could discover them. It was this last concern that broke through the haze of desire long enough for John to end the soft kiss.

He stepped back and watched as it took a moment for Charlotte’s eyes to open. Her cheeks were no less flushed now than when he had first brought her outside. Her lips looked fuller and lush, and he was hard-pressed not to return to them immediately. As her eyelids fluttered open, he watched her carefully, hoping he would not see regret in her enchanting emerald eyes. He waited as she focused her gaze upon him. A look of such tenderness was in them that he knew he had not offended her. She had given him an incredible honour, placing her trust in him in this private moment together, and he knew that he would treasure this memory for the rest of his life. He only wished that he could paint so that he could capture her on canvas, looking just like this, for all eternity.

He loved Charlotte. He had known this for weeks but had only now allowed himself to acknowledge the depths of his affections. And he would do whatever it took to be with her, to make her his wife, if she would have him.

Breaking the gaze, he turned away long enough to pull one of the white berries off of the mistletoe and offer it to Charlotte.

Her gloved fingers brushed against his as she took the berry before putting it in her reticule for safekeeping. Every touch they had shared this evening had been thrilling, but John’s kiss had completely overpowered her senses. She could think of nothing but him - the feel of his soft, yet firm, lips; the smell of him when their faces were so close; his hand grasping hers; his breath, exhaled against her cheek as he pulled away long before she was ready for him to do so.

She had never been able to bring herself to kiss Charles. She avoided being alone with him whenever possible and had become quite adept at evading any attempt at physical intimacy from him. She had dreaded the thought of kissing him, and more, if she were unable to escape marrying him. There was no depth to what he felt for her, no sense that he cared for her beyond wanting to meet his own physical needs and to have a wife who would be a socially acceptable choice.

She was startled by how much she wanted John. A yearning had been building within her for weeks without her realising it. There was a spark there that had been kindled when she kissed his cheek in the maze at Woodridge, and nearly been kissed by him in return, and it had now been fanned into flames that rivaled those in the ballroom’s great fireplace.

“I would remain here with you for eternity, Miss Wood, but it is wiser for us to return before we are discovered,” said John, with a look of such fondness that it made her heart clench.

“Oh, Mr. Plumptre, are you always so practical?” she teased, attempting to lighten the mood before they went inside and every emotion on her face was plain for all to see.

“Recent evidence would seem to indicate that I am not,” he said dryly, watching as she laughed. He offered her his arm, and then stepped through the archway to return to the ballroom.

“Miss Wood, I know that it will cause speculation if I were to ask you for a second dance for this evening, but I find that I am no longer so concerned with speculation. Will you save me the final set, or am I too late in asking?”

“You will never be too late, Mr. Plumptre. The final set is yours.”

**

The next two sets went by in a haze for both Charlotte and John, who kept stealing glances at one another as they laboured to keep their attention on their respective partners. As the darkened skies outside began to turn from black to grey in anticipation of the soon-rising sun, it was time for the final set.

Lady Torrington had been furtively watching Miss Wood and Mr. Plumptre all evening. She was an observant woman with a soft heart. When she saw that the two were paired again for the final set, she declared that it would be comprised of a single dance, the waltz.

The waltz had caused a stir when it was first spread to England. With men able to hold women in their arms and experience a physical closeness on the dance floor, it was shocking to some. But after it had been introduced in the English court earlier that year, it had gained wider acceptance and was becoming a fashionable addition to many balls.

The waltz was a dance that John previously might have thought to be too intimate, but he was exhilarated by the chance to openly hold Charlotte without repercussions or judgment. They took their places near Lady Torrington and her partner. John and Charlotte glanced at the countess, and if they were not mistaken, she gave the couple a subtle wink. Both of them were filled with gratitude for Lady Torrington’s infinitely wise choice of the waltz.

As John whirled Charlotte around the dance floor, he thought about the feel of her in his arms, and how her mouth had felt against his when they had kissed. He now understood why so many did not remain chaste until marriage. Although it was still important to him to honour both the Lord and Charlotte and to wait until she was his wife to make her his in body as well as soul, he knew that it would be exceedingly difficult if the wait was lengthy.

**

Unbeknownst to John, Charlotte’s thoughts had been the same. A simple kiss from him had awakened something new in her, and she was eager to explore, wherever it may take her. But she had always believed and been taught that the full expression of a man’s longing for his wife was to be expressed in marriage, and she wanted to take her vows before they took that step. She just had never known the waiting could be so difficult, nor that the wife could have such a longing for her husband. The depths of her ardor had taken her by surprise.

As the final set came to a close, the tired guests made their way to the retiring rooms and then out to their carriages, thanking Lady Torrington for a wonderful night. They would all sleep the day away before rising for a late afternoon repast.

Many of the guests' carriages had already departed by the time John escorted Charlotte out to the Wood carriage, before he went to join Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts for the ride home. Mr. Wood helped Mrs. Wood into the carriage, stepped into it himself, then was followed by Edmund. The family judiciously looked out of the windows on the opposite side as John and Charlotte said their goodbyes.

John took her hand in his. “Until we meet again, Miss Wood.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Plumptre,” she answered with a soft smile.

John bowed over her hand and discreetly brushed the lightest of kisses against her fingers, so delicate that she almost could not feel the pressure. Then he handed her into the carriage and watched her settle the sheepskin around her before he closed the door and sent them off with a wave of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte's dress for Lady Torrington's ball:  



	6. A Holiday Profession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte spend Christmas with their families, but their minds and hearts are elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful Caffiend for your beta-reading!

Charlotte finished placing holly leaves and rosemary branches across the fireplace mantel in the drawing room, then stepped back to see how it looked. Her brother and sisters were also busily bedecking rooms throughout the house with greenery, as they did on the afternoon of every Christmas Eve. Mama insisted that they wait until then so as not to bring bad luck upon the household. Although Charlotte did not hold to such superstition, she was happy to wait until Christmas Eve in order to keep the peace and satisfy her mother.

Mrs. Wood came into the drawing room and looked around. “Charlotte, have you seen Edmund? I need him to put up this bough over the front door.”

“I’m sorry, Mama, but I have not seen him in half an hour. Perhaps he is in the reception room, or maybe he is trying to talk Mrs. Carter into letting him sample tonight’s food a little early?”

“That does sound like him,” said Mrs. Wood, smiling. “I suppose this will get hung up soon enough. Will you please tell him that I am in need of his assistance, should you see him?”

“I will, Mama.”

Alone again, Charlotte let her mind wander once more back to the ball of three days prior. She had been able to think of little else over the past few days. The whole evening felt like a wonderful dream. Lady Torrington had been so gracious and kind, and she had elevated the reputation of Charlotte and her family in an undeniable way with her treatment of them. The dancing had been delightful, the manor was lovely and so impressive, she had had the opportunity to spend time with friends new and old, and then there was John.

He had been the perfect partner for dancing, an enjoyable dinner companion, and when they had shared their time on the terrace, he had awakened in her a depth of feeling and sense of passion that Charlotte had not known she possessed. She kept replaying their kiss in her mind and could almost feel his lips on hers even now. She longed to feel them again. She longed just to be able to see John and spend time with him, talk with him, and enjoy his company.

She could not help but wonder what John was doing at that moment. He had already made plans to travel home to the family estate near Chawton to spend Christmas with them. She knew that it had been some months since he had last visited and was happy that he would have that time with his family, but she wished that he had been able to spend Christmas with her. She felt his absence keenly. He was planning to return on the 29th of December, and she hoped that he would find a way to see her before he resumed work in the new year.

It would not do to become maudlin, she thought. John would return as scheduled, and wishing him here, no matter how fervently, would not cause it to happen any sooner.

She turned her thoughts to her visiting uncle, aunt, and cousins. With seven additional people staying in the house, it had been quite a bit busier, and noisier. At 18, Lucy Randall was the eldest of Charlotte’s cousins. She had been out the last two seasons and was being courted by a young baron. It was likely that this would be her last yuletide staying with them as she would no doubt spend Christmas with her future husband’s family in subsequent years. Helen and James, 16-year-old twins, were next eldest. Helen was excitedly anticipating making her debut during the upcoming season in the spring, while James was more interested in spending time with the horses in the stables when he was home from boarding school.

13-year-old Henry, also home from boarding school for the holidays, and 11-year-old Hannah rounded out the offspring of the Randall family. Closest in age to Anne and Louisa, the foursome could often be found spending time together when one family was visiting the other. Louisa and Hannah were especially close, having been born only two months apart.

Charlotte liked her Aunt Alice. She was practical but tender-hearted, a combination that could sometimes be a hindrance when dealing with her stubborn husband. Uncle Joseph was not a bad man, but he had rigid ideas about mixing with other classes. As a part of the landed gentry, he felt that spending time with those in trade or other professions was not appropriate. This had caused some friction between the pair over the years with regards to social engagements and interactions. He had even expressed his dismay to Charlotte’s mother on a previous visit years ago over the Wood family’s close relationship with the Eastons. 

While the Eastons were wealthy, their money had come from Mr. Easton’s work in the field of trade, which Uncle Joseph found vulgar. Both his wife and his sister had chided Uncle Joseph for his snobbery and judgment, and Mrs. Wood had let him know in no uncertain terms that their friendship with the Eastons would not be hindered by his disapproval nor anything else, and that she would not tolerate them being mistreated in any way.

Uncle Joseph had always been congenial to Charlotte, but his comments about the Eastons, which she had overheard while only 10 or 11 years old, had tainted her view of him. He had thankfully never again said such things that she was aware of, and he had treated the Eastons respectfully whenever they had called at times when her uncle’s family was visiting.

The Randalls had arrived yesterday and were staying for a week. In addition to the festivities of Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day, in the days following there were card parties and dinner parties and even a skating party during upcoming weeks. They could not possibly attend everything, but it would be a full few weeks culminating in Twelfth Night, and the activities would help to pass the time. She was grateful for that.

**

“John, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Mother, I must plead travel weariness. I was not attending,” answered John sheepishly.

“We are leaving shortly to visit some of the less fortunate members of the parish and deliver them food and clothing. Would you like to come along?”

“I would be most pleased to join you. I’ll be downstairs presently.”

Mrs. Plumptre went to check the donations one last time to ensure they had gathered everything as John readied himself to leave. He really must not allow his mind to wander so egregiously, but it was difficult when his heart was already elsewhere. He hurried down the stairs to join his family.

**

Charlotte sat at her dressing table, brushing out her hair before she braided it for sleeping. The day had gone quickly, filled as it was with visits to their tenants and a few of the poorer families in their parish, decorating the home with greenery, and visiting with their family. Their chandler, Mr. Hobbs, had given them his annual gift of a large Yule Candle, which they had dutifully lit at sunset. It would burn until the end of the next day, bringing blessing and protection to their home. They had eaten their evening meal by its light before retiring to the drawing room to play a few parlour games.

In the drawing room, they lit the fire using a remnant of last year’s Yule Log after choosing a new log and wrapping the traditional hazel twigs around it. It would burn until the end of Christmas Day, then be banked and allowed to smolder until Twelfth Night, in the hopes that it would bring prosperity and protection from evil. It provided a cheery blaze and fragrant scent as a background to their games for the evening.

All of this kept Charlotte occupied. But now that she was alone in her room, her thoughts again went to John. No matter how hard she tried to think about something else, her mind would return to him. It was sometimes quite aggravating. She had never dwelt so on a man before. With Charles, she did all that she could not to think about him at all, with the exception of trying to devise a way to end the engagement.

But with John, her heart gave a little leap whenever her thoughts would once again drift to him. And she was finding that she minded it less and less as time went on, although it did nothing to ease the twinge of his absence.

Charlotte finished brushing and laid her hairbrush down on her dressing table, quickly braided her hair, then got under the covers and pulled them around herself, hoping that her body would soon warm up the bed. It was now rather chilly in the bedrooms at night, even with the fireplaces in the home sending some warmth throughout. She wondered briefly what it would be like to share the bed with another whose warmth she could seek.

**

John was laying in bed, wondering when his racing mind was going to wind down and allow him to find rest for the night. Often he would retire at the end of the day only to find his thoughts unable to quiet down for some time.

Tonight his mind was on his Uncle Arthur, who was spending Christmas with his family. Arthur Humphries was his mother’s brother. He had always been close with his sister, and since the loss of his wife and their baby to childbirth early in his marriage, he had come to spend the Christmas holiday with her and her husband, then their growing family, nearly every year, vastly preferring that over spending it alone. He found that he immersed himself in his grief when he spent it alone, he had told John once.

Uncle Arthur had taken John under his wing from the time he was a young boy. He thought it likely that his uncle had done so because John’s brother, George, had a lofty sense of self-importance as the eldest and heir to the family estate and wealth. John’s father, William, had always doted on George, sometimes at the expense of his other three children, but most especially John. John was sure that William was not aware of the inequity of his affections, but the effects remained the same.

Arthur had helped fill the gap, visiting frequently and taking John out fishing, hunting, and boating. He taught him and his sisters to swim and encouraged their love of reading, a love that they shared not only with their uncle, but with their mother. John also visited his uncle for several weeks most summers, learning from him the ways of managing an estate that his father was too busy to teach either he or his brother. Arthur treated John as the son he had never had, and John loved him as a second father.

Uncle Arthur had gone with them to visit and drop off charitable offerings that afternoon. John had not thought the traveling to have been taxing, but Arthur had looked weary upon their return. By the time he had reached the top of the stairs, he had a fine sheen of perspiration and seemed short of breath.

“Uncle, are you alright? Are you in need of a tonic? Shall I send for the apothecary?”

“I thank you for your concern, my boy, but I am fine. I’m simply in need of a rest before dinner. I am not used to so many stairs these days.”

John’s perturbation was apparent as he continued to search his uncle’s face.

Arthur patted his nephew’s arm and said gently, “Do not worry yourself, John. I am quite sure I will be fit as a fiddle after my rest.” With that, he turned and went off to his room, John watching him until he had entered and closed the door behind him. 

When his uncle had appeared in the dining room for the meal, John watched him carefully. It appeared that he was correct, for he looked much heartier now and his breathing had returned to normal. When Arthur noticed John watching him, he gave him a reassuring smile, and John determined not to fret his way through the meal.

Now in bed hours later, John kept thinking about that moment at the top of the stairs. He hoped that his uncle truly was well. He would keep an eye on him tomorrow and ensure that he was not overdoing anything.

With that determined, John’s mind turned to Charlotte. He hoped that she was enjoying the visit from her uncle’s family. And although it was good to see his family after being away for some time, he could not help wishing that he was elsewhere this holiday. 

He could vividly picture Charlotte’s lovely face after he had kissed her. He wanted to put that expression on her face again. He wanted to feel her soft lips under his, pliable and seeking. He wanted to hear her laughter and see her sparkling eyes as she talked about something with enthusiasm.

He wanted Charlotte.

**

Christmas morning in the Wood household began as it usually did, with attendance at the local church service. The Randalls had accompanied them, as did most of their servants, and a number of their tenants were there as well. The vicar, Reverend Gooding, had delivered a fitting sermon on Christmas being an appropriate occasion for generosity and for giving to those who were needy in recognition of the gift given on the first Christmas many years before. The service concluded with communion, then the parishioners headed home for Christmas dinner, many by way of the baker to pick up their roasted goose or turkey as they had not ovens large enough to cook them at their own homes.

The Woods were fortunate to have a sizable stove and an excellent cook in Mrs. Carter. She and her kitchen staff had been busily preparing for the day and would be finishing the rest of the dishes for the evening meal after their return from church. Charlotte hoped that they would all enjoy their rest on Boxing Day, as it was well-earned.

Charlotte, her siblings, and her cousins spent the afternoon in the drawing room, playing Fox and Geese, Spillikens, and marbles, with some of the older ones playing chess as well. When the Eastons arrived a few hours before dinner, Alexander and Eleanor joined in with competitive spirits and much enthusiasm.

At last, it was time to share in the feast that Mrs. Carter and the kitchen maids had prepared. The traditional boar’s head was brought out, although in actuality it was the head of a pig, as boar were hard to come by in these modern times. In addition to this, they had roasted goose, mince pies, artichokes, carrots, stuffing, potatoes, and parsnips.

It was difficult to save room for dessert, but they made every effort to do so, not wishing to miss out on the puddings, including the Plum Pudding that the family had gathered on Stir Up Sunday to make. Each family member had taken their turn at stirring together the thirteen ingredients that represented Christ and the twelve apostles, using the wooden spoon that represented the cradle and stable. They stirred clockwise, from East to West, to represent the journey of the Magi, each while closing their eyes and making a wish that they would keep secret. Once prepared, it had been steamed, then hung up on hooks to dry for the weeks leading up to Christmas Day.

They also had gingerbread, fruit cake, and pineapple from the glasshouse of a neighbouring family. To finish it all off, they were served nuts, marchpane, and candied fruits, with those of age also having dessert wine.

It was with some effort that they all adjourned from the table, the younger children readying for bed with the rest of them going into the drawing room for some evening parlour games. 

Charlotte’s heart was so full at the end of the day that it was almost easy to ignore the pang she had buried down deep and distracted herself from with busyness.

**

Christmas Day was nearly over for the Plumptres. They had attended church, then returned home to the feast that their cook had prepared. As theirs was a smaller gathering this year, they had decided on a roast goose with whatever side dishes Cook had chosen to prepare. They had gathered around the pianoforte in the parlour to sing a few carols. Deck the Halls was always a favourite of John’s as he liked the rousing tune.

They held an Open House later in the afternoon, and after it had ended, John found himself in the family’s library, staring at the book spines without seeing any of the words. His mother found him there a short while later.

“Here you are! I wondered where you had gotten to. I should have known I’d find you in the library,” she said, smiling.

John gave her a distracted smile in return. “Did you need something, Mother?”

“Nothing in particular, although supper will be starting soon. But first, I wondered if *you* might need something - to talk, perhaps?”

“About what?” he said.

“You tell me. Ever since your arrival, you’ve seemed distracted. I thought at first that it might have been a case at work that was troubling you. But then I’ve seen you at other times over the past few days with a smile that tells me you’re thinking of something wonderful. Or is it someone?”

John blushed a bit at his mother’s words. He had had no idea that his actions had been so noticeable, nor that his mother would so quickly figure out the reason for his preoccupation.

“I apologise, Mother. I did not intend to be rude and am sorry if I haven’t been as attentive as I should have been.”

“John, I did not come to talk to you about this so that you would feel guilty. I thought you might want to tell someone what’s on your mind. If you do not, that is perfectly fine. But if you do, I am happy to listen,” she said with a gentle smile.

John began to tell her all about Charlotte. He watched her expression grow concerned and then indignant when he told her about how they had met - how Charles Saunderson had treated Charlotte. Then he saw her face soften as he told her about how he had arranged to take the paperwork to her home and had been fortunate enough to be invited for dinner and to spend the evening with her family. Her smile grew as he told her about their encounter at the bookshop, and lunch at Woodridge with the Tibbetts family, and the ball at Lady Torrington’s manor. He, of course, omitted Charlotte’s kiss on his cheek, and their shared kiss at the ball, but his affection for the young woman was quite clear to his mother.

He talked and talked, and when he was done, Mrs. Plumptre simply said, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I should like to call upon her, but I think it is still a little soon to formally do so.”

“And do you believe that she will welcome your call?

“I do.”

“Well then, you shall have to find a way to informally do so, do you not think? Do you know if her family usually has visitors on Boxing Day?”

“Miss Wood told me that her uncle and his family would be staying with them for the holidays, but I am not sure if anyone else will be there or what they may be doing. Why?”

“If you take the morning stage, you can be there before dinner tomorrow,” she answered.

“Mother, are you throwing me out of the house?” he teased.

“If I must,” she responded, grinning. “But somehow I do not think it will take much persuasion for you to return to Carshalton.”

“Will it not seem awfully rude of me to leave so quickly after arriving here?”

“Don’t worry about that, John. I will take care of it. I just want you to go see your Miss Wood. I have never seen you so happy as you have been tonight when speaking about her. She must be a very special young lady.”

“She is, Mother. I can hardly wait to introduce her to you!”

“I look forward to it. But for now, we should go join the rest of the family for supper, or they will be sending out a search party.”

**

At supper, Mrs. Plumptre broke the news to the family that John needed to return home earlier than planned. She had extracted a promise from him to come back during the next year for a longer visit, which helped to assuage the disappointment that the family felt in missing out on the rest of the time they had expected to have with him.

Afterward, he went upstairs to pack his things in preparation for catching the morning coach to Carshalton, still feeling torn about whether or not he was doing the right thing. He was folding his shirts to put in his case when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find his Uncle Arthur standing at the threshold, and he bid him to come in.

“What can I do for you, Uncle?” John asked as he returned to his packing.

“I was simply wondering what was so urgent that you’re cutting your visit short by three days.”

“I have pressing business that requires my immediate attention,” John said, feeling guilty over both his desire to leave warring with his concern for his uncle’s health, as well as keeping his true motives from him, but he was not sure how to broach the subject.

“Is it a young lady?” his uncle asked, never one to beat about the bush.

John looked at him in surprise. “Did Mother say something?”

“There was no need. I have been in love before, and I have seen young love in its first throes often enough to know what I was seeing in you.”

“I apologise, Uncle. I hope that you do not think ill of me for abandoning my family to pursue the affections of a young woman.”

“I could never think badly of you, John. You have always been to me as the son I was not fortunate enough to have. No, I wanted to urge you to go after her. If you are blessed with finding someone you truly love, and she you, you should not waste a moment.

“When I met Ellen, I knew nearly from the start that I wanted her to be my wife. I lacked the courage to do anything about it for the first year we knew one another. Then I finally decided it was worth taking a chance, even if she were to spurn me. Better to risk it than to never know.

“And what do you suppose? I discovered that, miraculously, she loved me, too. I think quite a bit these days about that lost year. I had her friendship, and occasionally had the privilege of seeing and spending time with her, but what I would not give to have made my declarations sooner and had that much more time with her.”

John searched his uncle’s face, looking for any signs of his seeming weakness from the day before.

“I know what you’re doing, John. I told you that I’m fine.”

“Are you sure I should be leaving so quickly? I—”

Uncle Arthur cut him off. “It’s been wonderful to see you, my boy, but I would like nothing better than for you to leave tomorrow.”

John’s eyes widened in shock as his uncle began to laugh.

“I apologise for my bluntness. I only meant that it will gladden my heart to know that you are going to be with the woman you love. Don’t let obstacles dissuade you from her, as long as the obstacle is not a lack of love on her part, and that does not seem to be the case. I have every faith that you will find a way around any impediments.”

With that, John felt both reassured that cutting his visit short was the right decision and determined to make Charlotte his, no matter what it took or how long he must wait. He needed to put things into motion instead of wasting further time.

**

John departed for the coach station after an early breakfast the next morning. His mother and uncle saw him to the front door, Uncle Arthur pulling him into an uncharacteristic hug before he departed. He embraced John and softly spoke into his ear for his ears alone: “I love you, John. I am so very proud of the man you have become.”

He had always known that his uncle loved him, but it was rare for the man to put voice to such sentiment, or to show his affection in a way that was physically demonstrative. He gripped him tightly in return and whispered back, “I love you, too, Uncle Arthur,” not letting go until his uncle loosened his hold first.

He turned and went out the door to the carriage that would take him to the station, eyes burning with unshed tears that he would not allow to fall.

**

The Wood family was up early on Boxing Day in order to present their gift boxes to the staff and see off those who were visiting family for the day. They had included warm hats, scarves, and gloves for each of them, as well as sweets, food from the larder, and a small bonus. Louisa and Anne had also painted a small picture for each person and included it in their box, wishing to practise their artistic skills and do something special that was all their own.

After they had distributed the staff gifts, they spent the rest of the morning playing games in the drawing room until it was time for lunch. When lunchtime was over, the family loaded into their carriages for the drive to town as the pantomime was opening that day in the village hall, and they were all eager to see it. This year’s production was Cinderella, and it was sure to be an amusing afternoon.

**

The family was still laughing as their carriages traveled home after the play. They had all had such fun, booing the wicked stepmother and ugly stepsisters, who had outdone themselves on their appearances, and calling out helpful instructions to the prince when he was trying to find Cinderella after the ball. They cheered and applauded when he finally found her, and were left in wonderful spirits for the ride home.

Charlotte’s father and uncle had hitched the horses to the carriages themselves that morning, the groom and stable boys having been given the day off along with the rest of the staff, with the exception of Mr. Pike, the butler. He had been offered the day as well, but he did not have any family near and his innate sense of duty precluded him from absenting himself when every other member of the staff was away or spending the day relaxing in their quarters. They would not unduly burden him with requests and would ensure that he took a day for himself soon.

When they had arrived back home, Edmund and James remained with the carriages to help their fathers unhitch and care for the horses before going inside. The remainder of the party went in to either rest or visit before making ready a light supper, having enough food remaining from dinner the evening before to make preparation easy. 

Charlotte knew that for part of the meal they would be having mince pies, as they would for every one of the days leading up to Twelfth Night, to ensure happiness and good luck in the coming year. She found it tedious by day eight or nine each year, but Mama insisted on following the tradition, and it seemed to please her. 

They entered the hall and were greeted by Mr. Pike, despite having insisted that they were able to let themselves in just as well, thank you. He was nearly scandalised by the mere suggestion.

As they removed their outerwear, he addressed Charlotte’s mother.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but you have a visitor. He arrived a few minutes ago and I informed him that the family would be returning soon. He asked if he might wait, so I have put him in the drawing room.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pike.”

“Will you be needing refreshments, ma’am?”

“No, thank you. I am quite sure that we can provide for ourselves. My greatest wish would be for you to take the rest of this evening off, Mr. Pike. We shall be fine for the remainder of the day.”

The desire to fulfill his duty to the family battled with what was essentially a direct order from his mistress.

“If you are quite sure, ma’am?”

“I am, Mr. Pike. You have taken very good care of us already, and I thank you.”

“Very well, ma’am,” he responded, bowing and returning to his room for the evening.

The younger members of the party gathered up the coats, scarves, gloves, hats, and cloaks and took them upstairs to put them in the appropriate rooms while Charlotte and Lucy went to the drawing room with their mothers to discover the identity of their mystery guest.

“Mr. Plumptre!” said Charlotte’s mother, who had entered first, as Charlotte’s heart leapt into her throat. “How delightful to see you! I thought that you would not be returning for several more days yet.”

Charlotte had come in last, allowing her aunt and cousin to go ahead of her, but she could hear his quiet answer from where she stood at the drawing room door.

"I had a sudden change in plans. I hope that it is not an inconvenient time for me to call upon your family, Mrs. Wood."

"Not at all! We have just returned from the village pantomime. It’s Cinderella this year. You should see it if you have the opportunity. It was wonderful!" 

"I may do that. Thank you for the recommendation." 

"Please allow me to introduce my sister-in-law, Mrs. Randall, and my niece, Miss Lucy Randall. Sister, Lucy, this is our friend, Mr. Plumptre." 

Bows and curtsied were exchanged with the greetings, then at last, at last, John turned his attention to her. 

"And of course you already know Charlotte."

"How do you do, Miss Wood?" 

"Very well, I thank you, Mr. Plumptre. And you are well? And your family?"

"Yes, we are all well, thank you." 

They stood looking at one another for a few moments, oblivious to the others in the room with them until Charlotte's mother quietly cleared her throat, regaining their attention. 

"May I offer you some tea, Mr. Plumptre? We will be having supper in a short while and you are, of course, welcome to join us. I hope that you do, but in the meantime, you would likely enjoy some refreshment."

"Tea sounds wonderful, Mrs. Wood. Thank you." 

She went to put the kettle on while Charlotte, her aunt and her cousin Lucy visited with John, the latter easily winning over Charlotte's relatives with his friendly demeanour. Mrs. Wood returned a short while later with a tea tray, complete with biscuits and tarts to accompany their drinks. 

They had a pleasant visit together but wondered what had become of the rest of the family. Lucy volunteered to go check on the children upstairs and set off to see what they were up to.

"Shall I go to the stables to see what is keeping Papa and the others, Mama?" 

"Would you, please, Charlotte? I am sure it is nothing too worrying, but I need to know what time they will want to have supper."

"Of course, I will go get my cloak." 

"Miss Wood, might I accompany you to the stables? I had only a cursory look when I cared for my horse upon arrival and should quite like to see your horses, if I may." 

"Certainly, Mr. Plumptre. I shall be ready in a moment." 

**

Charlotte met John by the front door and they stepped outside. They walked to the stables quietly, each glancing sidelong at the other, then smiling as they blushed and looked away again. It should have felt awkward, but both of them were giddy with the enjoyment of simply being in one another’s company again. Their hands were by their sides, and occasionally their fingers brushed against each other as they strode. 

They reached the stable doors to discover them latched from the outside. Evidently the men had finished their work in the stables and gone to see about something elsewhere. Charlotte would go in search of them if they did not return soon. 

"Shall we see the horses before we go looking for Papa?" 

"If you don't think the delay will be a problem," answered John. 

"We have no fixed schedule for this evening, so a short delay should be fine," answered Charlotte. 

They entered the stables, and Charlotte began with the horse closest to them, taking John down through the stalls with a brief introduction to each one. Most of them were Cleveland Bays. Some were used to pull the carriages or for riding, others were used by the servants for work in the fields, but all received an affectionate pat and rub before Charlotte moved on to the next one. They reached the last stall, and her eyes lit up as she unlatched the gate and went into it.

The horse in there was one of the largest in the stables. It was a bay-coloured Clydesdale with a white star marking on its forehead. Charlotte went up to it, cooing and stroking her hand against its face. It leaned its head into her neck and nuzzled her as John watched, transfixed by the bond between Charlotte and this beautiful, enormous creature.

“And this is Artemis,” she said, turning to John with a look of anticipation.

“The goddess of the hunt?” he asked.

“I see you know your Greek mythology, in addition to Norse myths.”

“I studied Classics in school before I went into law. She is majestic, Miss Wood. I have never seen another horse that could be her equal.”

Charlotte beamed at him and he knew that she was pleased with his praise of the animal.

“Would you like to come closer? She’s very gentle.”

John stepped into the stall and extended his hand out to Artemis. She nuzzled it and allowed him to move nearer.

“She is my favourite, if that were not obvious,” said Charlotte. “And she’s having her first foal this spring, aren’t you, girl?” she asked, turning back to the horse.

He watched her for a few moments. Then, realising that they would need to soon move on to look for Charlotte’s father and the others, he cleared his throat nervously and began to speak.

“Miss Wood, I told my family that I had pressing business that required my early return. The truth of it is that my pressing business … is you.”

Charlotte turned to John, eyes wide with surprise and, he hoped, pleasure.

“You returned early just so that you could see me sooner?” she asked softly.

“I did. I missed you terribly. My mind kept coming back to you. I kept thinking about talking with you, and dancing with you, and-” he faltered, not sure if he should express his next thought. But it was an honest thought and he wanted to tell her. He would have the courage this time that he had lacked previously in his life. 

“I kept thinking about kissing you, and wanting to do it again. And I felt as if I had left my heart here. Because you already have my heart. I love you, Charlotte. Forgive me if it is too soon to say so, and I know that I cannot yet ask for your hand, not so soon after everything that happened before, but I wanted you to know of the seriousness of my intentions, dearest Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s own heart flipped in her chest at hearing John call her by her Christian name for the first time. It felt so intimate, but perfectly right.

A joyful smile was on her face by the time John had finished speaking, and it soothed the anxiety he had been feeling deep in his soul. He had not known if his bold declaration would be offensive or unwelcome. A tiny part of him had been afraid of facing rejection again, but he knew that what he had with Charlotte was special. He was sure that she returned his feelings, but seeing that beautiful face beaming at him lifted a weight off of his chest.

Charlotte spoke softly. “I love you, too. I confess that I was lonely with you away. Even with so many people in the house, something was missing. There was a void where you had been, and I was counting the days until your return. And then I heard your voice in our drawing room tonight, and my heart leapt within my chest to hear it! I will hold your heart as carefully as the most precious treasure, John, for it is infinitely precious to me. And I will wait as long as necessary if it means we will be together.”

The two had drawn nearer one another as they had made their confessions, and now only a few inches separated them. John lifted his hand, as he had longed to do many times before, and cupped Charlotte’s cheek with it. She leaned into his warm palm as he looked at her tenderly, then they closed the distance between them.

Charlotte’s hands came up and rested lightly on John’s chest as he brushed his lips lightly across hers before settling his mouth more firmly against her own. His hand moved from her cheek to softly cup the back of her head, while his other hand was placed gently at her waist.

She could not feel the warmth of his hand through the cloak, but the pressure of it there felt possessive in a way that was both unfamiliar and exciting. The feel of his mouth on hers was reminiscent of their first kiss at the ball, but he was moving it with more assurance now that they both had revealed their sentiments. Charlotte responded, allowing him to feel the longing within her.

He groaned, or she did, or perhaps it was both of them, at last able to acknowledge their love for one another, which only fueled the desire that each had been feeling. John gently pressed his tongue against the seam of her lips, and Charlotte parted them a little. She was not sure what John was doing, but when he then used his tongue to delve into her mouth, she was thrilled by the sensations he was causing within her.

She sucked lightly on his tongue, and then John did groan, his fingers squeezing against her side as his kisses became more fervent. She could taste the Earl Grey tea in his mouth and knew that he was tasting the same in her. Charlotte slid her hands up and clasped them around John’s neck, her fingers playing lightly in the curls at his nape.

They could have stayed like that for hours, enjoying the privacy of the stables and the feel of one another’s arms, but reality came crashing in in the form of the latch of the stable door. They sprung apart from each other, Charlotte quickly moving out of Artemis’ stall before whoever was entering could discover them together there.

“We heard you were visiting the horses and wanted to come!” called Louisa, ushering in her sister and cousins save Lucy, who had decided to remain at the house.

“You almost missed us!” said Charlotte, quickly recovering. “I had just introduced Mr. Plumptre to Artemis, but we were about to go in search of Papa and the other men.”

“They passed us on our way here,” said Anne. “They are likely back in the house now.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I suppose our task is done, then. We will stay and walk back with you all once you’re finished. But we should not tarry long - Mama will be serving supper soon,” said Charlotte.

As the girls began to show their cousins around the stables, Charlotte turned back to John. They shared a secret look of relief over not having been caught mixed with frustration at being interrupted, although both knew that it would have been difficult to put distance between themselves otherwise. Their blushes, thankfully undetected by Charlotte’s family members in the dimmer light of the stables, remained until they were almost back at the house.

**

Supper was a noisy but joyful affair, and once it was done the happy party adjourned to the drawing room for the remainder of the evening, the men joining the women after they had their port in the dining room. The children became ensconced in checkers and charades and other games while the adults had tea and conversed.

Charlotte’s Uncle Joseph had been behaving admirably this visit, even while the Eastons were with them, and Charlotte had begun to relax more in his presence. But she should have realised that a leopard did not completely change its spots.

During a lull in the talk, she heard him speak to John.

“Mr. Plumptre, I understand you are a solicitor.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“And how did you come to be in this…profession?” he asked, disdain somewhat masked but evident to those who were listening.

John remained composed and spent a moment in thought before he began to answer.

“I had once thought to go into the clergy. I had believed it to be my calling from a young age. But my father and grandfather were both in law, and I knew enough about their work to realise that they were able to serve people as well, but in a very different way.

“I must admit that I felt guilty pursuing a profession that was not in the church. But it was my Uncle Arthur who persuaded me to follow in the footsteps of my father and grandfather. He saw that I had a passion for fighting for those who needed help and righting wrongs where I might. He encouraged me to follow my heart and become a lawyer. He has always supported me and has never given me false advice, so I followed it, and have been blessed many times over by my decision.”

Charlotte could see John’s eyes glistening as he spoke. She thought he must care very deeply for his uncle and that Uncle Arthur must be a remarkable, and wise, man indeed.

“Your father is a gentleman, is he not?” Uncle Joseph asked.

“He is, sir. But he has always been of the mind that there is no shame in a gentleman holding a profession. It does tend to keep one busy, managing an estate while working elsewhere as well, but he has an estate manager who helps to keep things running smoothly at home.

“If you will pardon me for speaking candidly, he also realises that not everyone is fortunate enough to be a firstborn son when a property is entailed, and that, when there is no entail, the splitting of estates can make it difficult to sustain families on the income from that alone. There is no dishonour in making an honest living, sir.”

Uncle Joseph looked at John with a newfound regard. He admired him for speaking boldly yet respectfully and not being cowed. He appreciated a man who would stand up for himself and what he believed in.

As the conversation moved on to other topics, John risked a glance at Charlotte. The pride in her eyes was unmistakable, and she gave him a tiny nod of affirmation before they joined in the discussion.

John could still feel the warm glow within himself after he had bid the family farewell an hour later before heading to the stables on his own, not wanting to try to wrangle another few minutes alone with Charlotte under the watchful eye of her uncle. He was also not sure his self-control would remain after being sorely tested earlier. He needed to be careful not to put himself and Charlotte into situations where temptation might overwhelm them, but the taste of what could be was making him yearn for the time when he would be able to make Charlotte his wife.


	7. A Whirlwind of Festivities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time between Christmas and Twelfth Night is filled with a flurry of parties and gatherings.

After Lady Torrington’s ball, invitations had begun to arrive with greater frequency for Charlotte and the Wood family. It was clear that they had been redeemed in the eyes of society and, although there were some in that group whose company they would prefer to avoid, they knew that it would be prudent to attend some of the events and integrate themselves into the community more fully once again.

It frustrated Charlotte to spend time with some of the very people who had snubbed and even cut her when she was assigned the blame for Charles’ indiscretions. The hypocrisy was infuriating, but she was aware that, for her siblings’ benefit, it would be best for the family not to isolate themselves.

The Randalls were, of course, included while they were staying with the Woods as their guests. They tried to choose invitations from those that they trusted most and those who had seemed sympathetic to their plight, even if they had remained silent. The Woods knew how easily someone could be damaged by association. Having been on the receiving end of such judgment, they would not be so quick to assign blame in the future and would seek to extend friendship and support to those who needed it, as the Eastons and a select few others had always done for them.

Reverend Gooding and his wife hosted a dinner party at the vicarage, and they invited several other families from the parish. It was a quiet dinner but enjoyable nonetheless. The Goodings had laid out a number of publications, drawings, and fascinating fossils and shells in order to provide conversation pieces, and the discussions were interesting, passing the time in a pleasant manner.

The Stones, a family from a neighbouring estate, invited the Woods and Randalls to another dinner party. The multiple courses, with a number of dishes at each course, were so sumptuous that even Uncle Joseph was impressed. There was a more formal atmosphere than at the Goodings’ party, but both families enjoyed the evening. 

The Randalls had returned home the day after the Stone family’s dinner party, but the festivities continued for the Woods. Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins invited them to a New Year’s Day skating party that was largely for the young people, at the behest of their daughter, Isabella. Isabella had been another friend who had continued to associate with Charlotte throughout everything that had happened, and she was a merry sort of girl.

The Hawkins family had been at Lady Torrington’s ball and had been introduced to John there, so he was included as well. Charlotte was elated to see him again so soon after Boxing Day, although she found it challenging to keep from looking at him too frequently as the group skated around the frozen pond on the Hawkins’ property. She also noticed, much to her chagrin, that Isabella’s gaze frequently went to John.

She could hardly be expected to know that John and Charlotte had an understanding when the two of them had agreed that discretion and patience were necessary for the time being. And Charlotte was secure in John’s love for her. She was not concerned, but she ached for all to know that she belonged to John, and he to her. She hoped that day would soon come. But until it did, she would have to content herself in public with stealing glances at her Adonis from a distance.

Charlotte had always loved the feeling of nearly flying across the ice, and she decided to lose herself in the sensation, challenging Edmund to a race. She knew that it was not very ladylike of her to skate with such abandon, but she could not resist the temptation of feeling so free. Edmund could never miss the opportunity to compete, and they were soon off, skating across the pond at top speed.

John, too, had been watching Charlotte as much as he dared risk. He was enchanted by her sparkling eyes and her cheeks that were flushed from the exertion. He was overcome with the desire to be with her, alongside her, declaring himself openly. They were able to exchange polite and appropriate greetings and a little conversation, but under the watchful eyes of so many, they knew that they must not linger long.

How could he feel both exhilaration and exasperation in such equal and large amounts?

At last, when everyone had thoroughly exhausted themselves, they retired to the Hawkins home for cups of cocoa and wassail and tea, accompanied by tarts, puddings, sandwiches, and the ever-present mince pies. It had been a delightful afternoon!

The social whirlwind carried on with a card party that Friday, thrown by Mrs. Churchill. It was an evening party and Anne and Louisa had stayed home, but the rest of the Woods were happily in attendance.

Mrs. Churchill had outdone herself, providing quite a few tables with chairs arranged around them, and varied card games from which her guests might choose. She had invited so many people that they were spread out into both her drawing room and her morning room. Mrs. Churchill had also provided refreshments of cheeses, cold meats, bread, and fruit on a sideboard for those who were peckish, to have throughout the evening as desired.

Charlotte was not pleased to see the Partridge family in attendance. This was the first time she had seen Harriet since the woman had broken off contact with her in August. She was not surprised, as Mrs. Churchill was from another neighbouring estate and frequently had included the Partridges on her guest list, but she had hoped to avoid any unpleasantness this evening, and Miss Partridge was a reminder of a painful time. It was highly unlikely that Mrs. Churchill had thought anything of inviting them this evening as she had no way of knowing about Harriet’s snubbing of Charlotte.

On the other hand, Charlotte was immensely pleased to see John there. He seemed to have been accepted into their larger social circle with ease, and she anticipated that she would have the opportunity to see him at gatherings frequently in the upcoming months, even if they were not able to attend them together.

He managed to put himself at her table for a game of whist, pairing with Charlotte against a couple he had only met that evening. They kept their gambling limited to no more than a few pennies at a time, not wishing to play for any high stakes but simply for their enjoyment. Sitting across from one another at the table, playing the game, gave them many opportunities to share glances without raising any suspicions, and they reveled in that fact.

Charlotte and John emerged as the victors in their round. Thankfully their competitors were good-natured and simply congratulated them before they all went off to find a different game to play. John and Charlotte separated but each maintained a keen awareness of where the other one was throughout the evening.

After several rounds of Loo and Vingt-un, Quadrille and Commerce had been played, Mrs. Churchill announced that supper was being served. Although the guests had enjoyed partaking of the refreshments earlier, they were more than ready for the full supper by the time the break was announced. The Woods seated themselves together, and Mrs. Wood insisted that John sit with their family, a happy circumstance for all of them, for they greatly enjoyed one another’s company.

Their conversation was easy and fun, and the hot supper was delicious, with fish, oysters, rabbit and venison, cauliflower in white sauce, buttered eggs on toast, artichokes and roast onions, fruit - too many things for Charlotte to recall, even though she knew her sisters would want to hear the details tomorrow. They were all well sated and ready for a few more rounds of cards when they were through.

Everyone was standing around in small groups, conversing with one another while waiting for Mrs. Churchill to begin the next round, when Charlotte saw her mother look over her shoulder. Someone was approaching their group, and judging by her mother’s expression, it was not someone with whom she wished to speak.

Charlotte drew in a quick breath when she saw Harriet Partridge appear at her side. Habit and decorum saw her return Harriet’s curtsy, but she then remained silent until Harriet spoke.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Wood, Miss Wood. This has been wonderfully diverting, has it not?” she said.

“Indeed it has, Miss Partridge,” said Charlotte’s mother, an unmistakable iciness in her inflection that she had never before used with Harriet.

Charlotte was impressed that the girl did not flee immediately under her mother’s weighty stare and censorious tone, but instead her gaze shifted to John. Ah, of course. Harriet had sensed the opportunity to meet a handsome, eligible bachelor. No doubt she had made inquiries as to John when she had seen him. 

Charlotte could not truly blame her. John was quite the catch - she should know. She wondered what would happen if she just chose not to introduce him at all, how long Miss Partridge would wait or if someone else would finally jump in to perform the task, but she did not want to put John in such an awkward position. 

"Miss Partridge, may I present Mr. Plumptre? Mr. Plumptre, this is Miss Partridge."

"How do you do?" said Harriet. 

"How do you do?" John responded politely. 

He was not sure what was happening here, but he could feel the tension in his love and in her parents, and he did not like it. He was prepared to intervene if necessary, as he had in the bookstore, but he would have to do so in a way that would not embarrass the family. However, there ended up being no need.

Harriet turned to Charlotte and addressed her again.

“Miss Wood, it has been some time since we have called upon one another. I truly regret letting so much time pass and hope that you will be available to receive me this week,” she said.

Charlotte looked at her carefully. She knew that Harriet was too proud to actually apologise, but that this was her way of telling Charlotte that she was sorry for what had transpired. She was unsure if Harriet was only sorry now that Charlotte had been vindicated and was once again socially acceptable, or if there truly was some regret within her.

She was tempted to tell Harriet that she would not be available as her schedule was quite full. Harriet would understand that Charlotte did not wish to see her again. But they had been friends, if not close friends, for quite some time, and Charlotte could not bring herself to respond coldly to her. She could see that Harriet was anxiously awaiting her response.

“If you are to call upon me while I am at home, and I am informed of your visit, I should be happy to receive you,” she answered.

Harriet’s expression showed that she knew exactly to what Charlotte was referring with her response. To her credit, her cheeks flushed and she dropped her eyes before speaking softly with a grateful smile.

“I thank you, Miss Wood. I quite look forward to renewing our acquaintance.” She dipped into a curtsy, then returned to her party.

Charlotte released a breath she did not realise she had been holding before looking at her mother. 

Mrs. Wood still bore an expression of mild annoyance at Miss Partridge, but if Charlotte was willing to forgive her actions and accept her overture of renewed friendship, she would not prevent her from doing so. She was so proud of her daughter’s strength, as well as her soft heart that would not allow her to inflict injury upon someone else if it was possible to avoid it. She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it, a smile now on her face.

Ready to put the past behind her and have some more merriment, Charlotte turned to her father and Mr. Plumptre. “Would anyone like to play a bit of Commerce?” she asked. It was a game that allowed a large number of players to join in, and Charlotte was suddenly in the mood to be sociable. Her parents went to find Edmund to invite him to play as Charlotte and John moved to one of the larger tables.

John spoke softly enough that no one else could hear. His low voice sent a tingle down her spine.

“I am not entirely sure of the history between you and Miss Partridge, but I believe I have deduced enough to understand what you just did. And I am very proud of you, Miss Wood.”

Charlotte looked at John and nearly had her breath taken away at the look of love and pride he wore. Quickly looking away before they lost all hope of keeping their affections clandestine, she schooled her features into a tranquil smile and said, “Thank you, Mr. Plumptre,” her voice containing the emotion that she could not fully express.

After several more games, Mrs. Churchill’s guests were suppressing yawns, ready to return to their homes to retire for the night - some with their pockets quite a bit lighter than when they had arrived. 

The Woods were thankful that the next day was Saturday. It had been such a busy time for the last several weeks, and Sunday was Epiphany Eve, with a Twelfth Night party at the Eastons’ home in the evening. Monday was Epiphany, with a quiet gathering at their own home and the traditional Epiphany observations. They were looking forward to having a restful day tomorrow so that they were ready for the remaining festivities.

Everyone began to gather their warm outerwear and put it on, John staying near to Charlotte so that he could help her on with her cloak, his fingers discreetly brushing against the skin at the nape of her neck as he placed it over her shoulders. His hands lingered for just a moment before he stepped back.

Charlotte glanced around the room, but no one had taken notice of John’s impetuous action, and she could not find it in herself to be upset with him for taking the risk. She had longed to be able to touch him, and to feel his fingers against her skin, even just for a second, was heavenly.

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre,” she said, her eyes sparkling at him mischievously.

His dimples showed as he smiled at her. “It was my genuine pleasure, Miss Wood.”

The guests all bid farewell to Mrs. Churchill and thanked her for a lovely evening before heading out to their carriages and horses, or on foot for those who lived nearby, returning home to sleep peacefully and dream of what more would come in the new year.

**

Sunday morning, the morning of Epiphany Eve, was crisp and cold. The Woods bundled themselves up and climbed into the carriage for church. They arrived a few minutes before the service started and sat in their usual pew, sitting closely to one another and leaving on their coats, hats, and gloves to help ward off the chill. Charlotte wondered why churches did not have fireplaces, or at the very least wood stoves. It seemed a practical addition.

The service began with an opening hymn. Partway through, Charlotte heard a baritone voice coming from several rows behind her, one that she had not heard at their church before. It was rich and tuneful, and it sounded delightfully familiar.

She was curious but did not dare to make a scene, craning her neck to see if her suspicions were correct. Her mother possessed no such misgivings. Mrs. Wood was seated near the far end of the row and so was able to turn her head only slightly in order to view the newcomer. Charlotte saw her mother incline her head in greeting, giving the man a smile, and she was sure that she had been right.

Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and excitement, and she found it hard to focus on the sermon. Poor Reverend Gooding had worked so hard on it, she was sure, judging by the volume of his voice and the vehemence of his gestures. She believed it was something about the Beatitudes. She determined to listen enough to at least be able to give polite responses as they were filing out of the church after the service concluded.

As for John, he was also finding concentration to be difficult that morning. He had slipped into a row near the back just after the service began, not wishing to call any more attention to himself than necessary. He had been attending All Saints’ Church near his flat in town since he had moved to Carshalton, but he had realised that attending the same church as the Woods would allow him to see Charlotte no less than weekly, even if it was from a slight distance and without much opportunity to speak.

He determinedly returned his gaze to Reverend Gooding from where it had drifted, to a pew several rows ahead of him. He could not see Charlotte’s face in full, but she was wearing her red cloak, which he had always liked on her. It was a very flattering colour for her. He wondered what dress she was wearing underneath it. Her navy blue, perhaps? Or maybe she had worn something he had not yet seen?

He gave himself a mental shake and forced his mind back to the sermon. The vicar was a passionate preacher and he was sure that he would enjoy the man’s messages once he was able to maintain more than a minute or two of effort towards listening. He really must make greater attempts.

**

After the service concluded with communion, the parishioners were greeted at the front door by Reverend and Mrs. Gooding as they left. John was welcomed by them and introduced himself.

“Are you new to the area, Mr. Plumptre?” asked Mrs. Gooding.

“No, ma’am, I have resided in Carshalton these past two and a half years. I have been attending All Saints’ Church but thought I would visit here as I have been in the area with some frequency of late and had heard wonderful things about Mr. Gooding.”

“You are too kind, Mr. Plumptre!” said Reverend Gooding, feeling humbled but gratified by John’s words. “I hope that you found the service edifying.”

John was aware that the Woods were approaching, Charlotte only a few feet away now.

“I did, sir. In fact, I would say it was quite stimulating! I do not believe I have ever been present in a more appealing church service than this one,” said John. “I look forward to returning next week.”

Charlotte blushed, knowing that his comments were not entirely in reference to the sermon.

“And we shall be glad to have you with us, young man!” said the kindly Reverend Gooding. He was always happy to add to his flock, and particularly one with such an enthusiastic and agreeable nature.

The Woods had now joined them, with Reverend Gooding addressing Mrs. Wood.

“Have you met Mr. Plumptre yet, Mrs. Wood?”

“We have already had the pleasure, Mr. Gooding. Mr. Plumptre is, in fact, a friend of our family.”

“Wonderful!” said the vicar. “I am so pleased that he already has friends in our congregation.”

Mrs. Wood then turned to John. “Mr. Plumptre, if you are not yet engaged for the midday meal, will you please consider joining us for Sunday luncheon? I am sure you would be quite famished if you first rode back to town before you were able to dine.”

“I thank you, Mrs. Wood,” answered John, delighted beyond measure at this unexpected invitation. “It would be my honour to dine with your family.”

Charlotte flushed with happiness at this turn of events. With great effort, she managed to maintain a demure expression as she said goodbye to the Goodings. 

**

John rode his horse to Woodridge, keeping pace with the Woods’ carriage. Charlotte could see him out of the window opposite where she was sitting, and her eyes frequently searched out the view on that side, her family graciously pretending not to notice. All except for Louisa, who asked Charlotte at one point why she kept looking in her direction, only to be swiftly redirected by Mrs. Wood as Charlotte’s cheeks flamed and she looked out her own window until they cooled.

Luncheon was delicious and they were all in excellent spirits at the end of it, adjourning to the parlour. It was a cosy, soothing room, with wallpaper striped in pale blue and white and plush furniture in slightly darker shades of blue. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace.

There was also a pianoforte in one corner. John was pleasantly surprised when Charlotte, having been asked to play something, went to sit down on the bench and look through the music to choose a piece. He had not known that Charlotte was musically accomplished, but he should have known that she would be, as the daughter of a gentleman. 

Once she had selected, he moved to stand near the bench so that he could turn the pages for her. Charlotte began to play Handel’s beautiful aria, _Lascia ch'io pianga_. Then she began to sing the lyrics in a sweet, clear mezzo-soprano, and John was mesmerised by her angelic voice. If he had not been deeply in love with her already, he most assuredly would have been after hearing her sing.

He watched her profile openly, using the excuse of awaiting her nod to signal the page-turn. He admired her chestnut hair, thick lashes, full lips, porcelain skin - he was so caught up in his admiration that he almost missed the nearly imperceptible nod, but he quickly snapped to it and turned the page in time, resolving to pay a little more attention to the pages during the remainder of the song so as not to throw off Charlotte’s expert playing.

When it was over, his applause was the loudest, and Charlotte blushed under his effusive praise. 

“Miss Wood, I did not know that you could sing in such a sublime fashion! It was truly the most beautiful thing I have ever heard!”

“I fear that you flatter me, Mr. Plumptre, but I thank you nonetheless,” she said, continuing to flush with pleasure at his response and obvious enjoyment. “I heard a fine new baritone in church this morning. Perhaps you will gift us with a song of your own this afternoon?”

John looked flustered at the thought of singing for them. But he looked at Charlotte’s pleading eyes and could not say no. “Only if you will sing with me, Miss Wood,” he answered, glad that he had responded thus when Charlotte beamed at him.

Charlotte pulled out a few pieces that might be appropriate, and John selected a folk song with a lively tune and vigorous pace. Charlotte was up to the task, and as her fingers flew across the keys of the pianoforte, their voices blended and complemented one another beautifully. They made a lovely pair, and Mrs. Wood sighed contentedly as she watched them.

Once their duet was finished, Charlotte ceded the bench to her sisters, who took their turns entertaining everyone with tunes of their own. After a delightful afternoon of music and conversation, the family adjourned to ready themselves for the wassailing of the trees, inviting John to join them. Ordinarily they would do this later in the evening, after supper, but as they were going to the Eastons’ party this night, they decided to do it first as it would be late when they returned.

They gathered with the servants and went out into the estate orchard. Two of the servants carried between them the large milk-pan containing the cider with roasted apples in it, and another had a stack of earthenware cups. Placing themselves around the most abundant of the trees, each person, in turn, dipped their cup into the milk-pan, filling it with cider.

They then sang the traditional wassailing song:

_“Health to thee, good apple-tree,_  
_Well to bear, pocket-fulls, hat-fulls,_  
_Peck-fulls, bushel-bag-fulls.”_

After each person took a turn singing the verse, they drank some of the cider in their cup, then threw the remaining cider and roasted apples towards their chosen tree amidst the shouted encouragement of the rest of their party. Then the men lit a roaring fire, and everyone blew horns to drive away evil spirits and promote vigorous growth and production in their trees through the coming year.

Most of the servants remained behind to continue the celebration and tend the fire as the family returned home, ready to pile into their carriage for the ride to the Easton estate. John was heading to the stable to saddle his horse for the journey when Mrs. Wood stopped him.

“Do ride with us, Mr. Plumptre! I am sure that your horse is enjoying the warm stable, and there is room enough in our carriage for you.”

“If you are sure I won’t be imposing?”

“There is no imposition. Please join us,” she answered with a smile.

**

The drive to the Eastons’ was quite pleasant, with a comfortable carriage and seven people inside it to warm it up. Mr. and Mrs. Wood sat on with side with Edmund, while Charlotte’s sisters were on the other side with her and John. The girls had climbed in first, which left Charlotte to slide in next to them with John on the other side, next to the window.

They were both very conscious of one another’s nearness on the drive. It was like a sweet torment, being so close but not able to touch other than the occasional brushing of their arms against each other. But they were happy to be in company together regardless, and on their way to a merry celebration.

The Eastons welcomed them in and had everyone draw character cards at the door. Charlotte and John mysteriously drew the cards for Queen Governwell and King Graceful. John was only too delighted to be assigned the role of official escort to Charlotte for the duration of the party. Charlotte herself had her suspicions that Eleanor had something to do with their fortuitous picks. She could not, however, find it within herself to mind.

Everyone began to throw themselves into their assigned characters immediately, Charlotte and John bore their crowns and behaved in an appropriately regal manner as Mrs. Wood took on the role of Mrs. Candour, being very forthright with her fellow partygoers and speaking in easily overheard “whispers” about other guests. Fortunately Mrs. Wood had the discernment to know what to say in her role; Charlotte shuddered to think how it would have been if Louisa had been the one to draw that card.

As it was, Louisa had drawn the Shepherdess card and was doing a marvelous job of herding her imaginary sheep through the gathering with the crook she’d been given. She was taking great care not to hook any of the guests. Anne, to her chagrin, had drawn Maud Mute, a requirement of which was to spend the bulk of the party being silent, although no one complained when she was out of character throughout the night. Mr. Wood drew Hector Hero and performed unnecessary feats of derring-do, such as “rescuing” his wife’s punch cup and drinking it himself.

Best of all was Edmund, who drew the Cupid card. He was given little wings and a bow and arrow with which to target couples. Surly over his choice, he instead made the most ridiculous matches throughout the evening, including old Mr. Creed and 16-year-old Georgiana Hillacre. Charlotte suspected that Edmund had an eye for Miss Hillacre himself but lacked the boldness to do anything about it yet. But he was only 17, so there was time for him to take action as he grew further into adulthood.

Guests were still arriving when a hush drew over the house, beginning at the front entry and spreading in low whispers. Lady Torrington had arrived, to the surprise of many. Mr. and Mrs. Easton had greatly enjoyed the ball at Lavender Manor and wished to return her hospitality, although they had not expected her to accept the invitation when they had first issued it, as they were lower than she was socially. But they had happily received her acceptance, so her attendance was no surprise to them.

Mrs. Easton moved forward to greet her as she drew her card for the evening - the Traveling Minstrel.

“Oh, Your Ladyship - permit me to get you a different card,” she said.

“Nonsense! This will do splendidly!” said Lady Torrington. “Where are my props? Have you a harp-lute?”

Lady Torrington put on the hat that went with the Minstrel card. The Eastons did have the instrument, and once it was placed into Lady Torrington’s hands, she began to play with a skill that surprised everyone. Then she started to sing a ballad, her dulcet tones bringing to life the story of chivalry and courtly love. When she finished to enthusiastic applause, the party truly roared into life, everyone joining in the games and roleplaying and dancing and food.

They played Snapdragon, trying not to singe their fingers as they grabbed raisins and nuts out of the flaming brandy. The Eastons supplied plenty of eggs, for tossing between two people as they moved further and further apart, and for passing around on spoons. They bobbed for apples and played Bullet Pudding, Eleanor being the unlucky one who had to search for the bullet with her mouth after it fell into the flour.

Besides Lady Torrington’s expert harp-lute playing, there were others supplying musical entertainment on the pianoforte or the violin, and the Eastons had the traditional pipers playing during supper. When everyone had finished supper, the Twelfth Night Cake was revealed.

The Eastons had picked it up from a baker in Carshalton the day before the party. It was an elaborate confection with multiple layers, iced in colorful frosting and decorated with gilded paper and marzipan crowns and swans. Cutting it into slices revealed a rich, buttery cake filled with fruits, nuts, and spices, perfect for the occasion.

After they were all sated, there were songs and recitations from various guests, including the children, whom Mr. Easton would call upon to be sure they had a turn if they wished. Then it was more games and dancing, and more drinking of punch for the adults, which lead some of them to become increasingly rambunctious.

As it was nearing half-past ten in the evening, Mrs. Wood suddenly gasped and turned to her husband.

“Thomas! The greenery is still up! We must hasten home to remove and burn it, or we shall be forced to leave it up until Candlemas, and you know how dry it gets by then!”

John and the Wood family hurriedly gave back any props and costume pieces they had used, bid their hosts farewell, and bundled themselves into their outer garments for the ride back home, which saw them traveling with greater speed than on their journey to the party. Lady Torrington had asked before they departed if it would be convenient to call upon them the next week, and they were pleased to tell her that it would.

Arriving home at a quarter past eleven, Mrs. Wood sent Louisa and Anne upstairs to ready for bed as Mr. Wood went to check on the bonfire in the orchard and the others scattered to take down the greenery throughout the house. Edmund went off to the kitchen, Mrs. Wood upstairs, John to the parlour and study, and Charlotte to the drawing room.

Charlotte finished the drawing room and went to take down the bough that Edmund had hung over the front door on Christmas Eve. She stretched and reached, but she could not quite touch the pins that were holding it in place. As she tried one more time, she felt a warm presence behind her.

“Perhaps I might help you with that, Miss Wood?” said John, in a low voice that sent shivers down her back. She very nearly squeaked.

He reached above her and easily pulled out the pins holding the bough in place, surrounding her with his arms as he did so. It felt both protective and dangerous at the same time. She knew that, if she turned in his arms, they would be very close indeed. She was still trying to drum up the courage to turn when she heard him speak again.

“Miss Wood, it appears that we have a few minutes to ourselves.”

“I do believe you are correct, Mr. Plumptre,” said Charlotte, biting her bottom lip in nervous anticipation.

He stepped back, took her hand and gently pulled her into the drawing room, out of sight from anyone coming back down the stairs or in through the front door, should the others return too quickly.

“I’ve missed you, dearest Charlotte,” he said softly, pulling her close to himself and looking down at her tenderly.

“You’ve been with me all day, John!” she teased him. “You were my companion at the party this evening. And this is the third time we’ve seen one another in only five days.”

“Yes, but I’ve had to keep my distance for much of the time we’ve been together, sweet girl,” he responded. “I haven’t been able to talk to you as much as I would have liked. I haven’t been able to hold you in my arms. And I have not been able to kiss your tempting lips. It has been agony, darling one,” he said, as Charlotte laughed at his melodramatic words.

“Allow me to end your torment, my love,” she answered, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He still tasted of the punch they had been drinking at the party.

John wrapped his arms more firmly around Charlotte and returned her kiss, but he remained keenly aware that her mother was upstairs, her brother in the kitchen, and someone else could discover them at any moment. He pressed a few more soft kisses to her mouth before he reluctantly pulled away.

“I need to be going, sweet. Your family could come upon us and it would not do for them to find us in here alone. And I should take the greenery out to the fire so it can be burned before midnight. Our time is running short, dear one.”

Charlotte’s mouth chased his for a few more kisses before she allowed him to pull back. She found that she quite enjoyed kissing John, and she did not wish to stop, even though she knew that he was right about the possibility of discovery. 

She pouted at John and he was tempted to sneak in a few more kisses, but he knew that it would only make it harder to leave her. Instead, he pulled the glove off of one hand and bent over it, pressing a warm kiss against the backs of her fingers.

Charlotte felt a strange excitement in the pit of her stomach at the feel of his mouth on her skin. She had never had such intimate contact with anyone, and she felt a bit lightheaded, her body suddenly much warmer.

“You are a temptress, my darling Charlotte. But I will draw upon every bit of my strength to tear myself away from you now. I love you, dearest. Do not forget it.”

“Never! I love you, too. Be safe, John.”

She walked him to the front door. John squeezed her land, then released it and turned to go saddle his horse and take the cold ride back to town for the night, by way of the orchard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Caffiend, as always, for her beta-reading expertise!


	8. A Series of Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John begins to call on Charlotte.

Sunday morning, January 12, felt bitterly cold as Charlotte got out of bed. She quickly slid her feet into soft slippers that she kept on the rug at her bedside and wrapped her dressing gown around her tightly. It would be a chilly ride to church that morning. Charlotte hoped the footmen would ensure that there were plenty of blankets in the carriage. She also hoped that they were dressed warmly enough against the elements, for they were to be far more exposed to them than would be the family.

She wondered if she might see John this morning. She did not know if he was planning to attend their church again, and even if he was, it was such a frigid morning that she was unsure if he would still make the journey or choose to stay closer to home today.

She had not seen him since Twelfth Night. He had been invited by her mother to join them for their Epiphany feast, simple though it would be. But he had been forced to decline as he already had accepted an invitation from James Tibbetts to join his family for the day.

The Wood family had proceeded without him, chalking the door with the initials commemorating the visit of the Three Kings, reciting the appropriate blessings, singing carols, and finishing off their meal with the six-pointed Epiphany tart, the jam dessert that Mrs. Carter had made to symbolize the Star of Bethlehem. Charlotte had also enjoyed the figs that had been on the table, as well as the oranges, once again feeling thankful for the neighbours with hothouses that allowed them to enjoy the citrus fruit in the depths of winter.

Eleanor had called upon Charlotte mid-week. The two went to the parlour rather than the drawing room, hoping for more privacy for their discussion. They had just settled into their chairs, Charlotte having requested tea from one of the maids, when Eleanor spoke.

“Has he proposed yet?”

Charlotte sighed and smiled at her friend.

“It’s not that simple, Eleanor.”

“Why ever not?” she asked. “Mr. Plumptre is clearly besotted with you. Anyone with eyes is able to see that.”

“And many people were able to see that at your party, as we were paired for the evening by the draw of the cards. It was very interesting how that turned out,” said Charlotte wryly.

Eleanor studiously examined her teacup with a slight smirk on her face as Charlotte continued.

“My broken engagement is still too fresh in many minds. We both think that it would be wise to wait a little longer before proceeding formally in some way.”

“Why should you have to wait for your happiness when that reprobate Mr. Saunderson went out and claimed his own while still betrothed to you? She could hardly have held a candle to you, dear Charlotte, but he was nonetheless able to pursue what he wanted with little to no consequence.”

“You know that is the way of things, Eleanor. Men are free to pursue their own happiness, even to the detriment of others, but women must bear the burden of societal expectations and rigid rules. But let me ease your mind by telling you that I am already almost unbearably happy. I do not know how I shall contain it all should we become engaged!” finished Charlotte.

“But what of you? Have you anything to share with me?” she asked Eleanor. Charlotte had noticed at the Twelfth Night party that a certain Daniel Addicott was stealing glances at her friend, and she thought she noticed a few wayward looks from Eleanor as well.

“Mr. Addicott has called on me,” said Eleanor as her cheeks turned pink.

Charlotte gave an uncharacteristically girlish squeal at this news and embraced Eleanor.

“I am so happy for you! You must tell me more!”

“There’s not much to tell yet. It is very new. But I really like him, Charlotte. I think I could be quite content with him.”

Charlotte beamed at her friend, so pleased for her good fortune. Mr. Addicott was the eldest son of a neighbouring landowner, and he had always been in their circle of acquaintances. He was a decent man of good character, with a twinkle in his eyes that gave away his good-humoured disposition. She thought that he would be a fine match for Eleanor, and that he could do no better than to choose her friend.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon in pleasant conversation and enjoying tea and the goodies that the maid had brought to them before Eleanor had returned home.

She had had another caller during the past week as well. Harriet Partridge had made good on her request to call upon Charlotte. She had been delayed by an illness the previous week but had not wanted to tarry too long in following through, as she wished to convey the sincerity of her wishes to Charlotte.

Their visit was less relaxed than the one Charlotte had with Eleanor, but after the initial moments of awkwardness, they were able to reestablish their friendly acquaintance and spend the appropriate amount of time for a call before Harriet took her leave, with Charlotte promising to call upon her soon.

It had not been as difficult as she thought it might have been, but Charlotte was relieved to have that first call behind her.

**

Charlotte mulled over the past week during the ride to church. Fortunately, the carriage had been well-stocked with cozy blankets, and she had been relieved to see the heavy coats and warm gloves and hats on the driver and footman. They exited the carriage and quickly went into the church, taking some of the blankets with them as they knew it would be quite chilly inside.

Charlotte was pleased to see familiar blonde curls on a tall figure when they entered. John was standing near the back of the church, speaking with Reverend Gooding. He turned with a bright smile when he heard her family approach, and they all greeted one another.

“I am surprised to see you here today. I had thought you might wish to minimise your travel on such a cold day!” said Charlotte.

“After such a wonderful service last week, I could not keep myself away,” responded John, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Mr. Plumptre, would you care to join us in our family pew? We have room for another,” said Charlotte’s mother.

“I thank you, Mrs. Wood. I would be delighted to do so.”

The family filed into their row and settled in for the service, Louisa insisting on sitting next to Mr. Plumptre with Charlotte on her other side. It was just as well, Charlotte thought. She would have a difficult enough time concentrating on the sermon without having John directly next to her.

After the service was over, Mrs. Wood again invited John to travel home with them and have luncheon. He accepted and, before long, they were all ensconced in the dining room, enjoying Mrs. Carter’s fine cooking. She had made a savoury roast with gravy, roasted potatoes, carrots, and fresh-baked bread. It warmed them all up from the inside out and was the perfect meal after a cold morning at church.

John was seated next to Charlotte for the meal, and John's right hand and Charlotte's left one were frequently below the table, fingers brushing against each other. Charlotte found it thrilling, but she was disappointed when he announced after luncheon that he should be getting back to town before the snow that was threatening to fall could do so. She did not have the opportunity for a private goodbye, but the look that John gave her when no one else was looking made her flush.

John became a regular attendee at their church, and each week, Mrs. Wood invited him over for luncheon after the service. It soon became presumed that he would be their guest unless he told them otherwise, which suited everyone quite well. But each week, there were always others around, preventing them from having any time alone.

**

The middle of February brought with it an unusually heavy deluge of snow, forcing everyone to stay indoors and close to home. After two weeks of being homebound, Charlotte was feeling cooped up and anxious, waiting for the snow to start to melt so that they could take the carriage somewhere. It had to happen soon, but on that Saturday, the snow was compact and showing no signs of beginning to thaw.

She was in the drawing room that afternoon, embroidering a handkerchief when she thought she heard the sound of bells. She stopped and cocked her head, listening. After a moment, she heard them again.

Crossing to the window, she looked out to see someone approaching in a cutter sleigh, the horses pulling it swiftly across the top of the snow. She was not sure of the man’s identity, but her heart skipped a beat with excitement and hope.

She continued watching as the sleigh drew up near the front of the house and stopped. John unfolded himself from the seat and walked up to the front door, then knocked.

Mr. Pike ushered him into the drawing room, where Charlotte, her sisters, and her mother had all been spending the afternoon. They curtsied as he gave a bow, then he spoke.

“I wondered if anyone might like to go for a ride in the sleigh outside. It only has two seats, but I thought I could take you out in turns, whoever would like to go.”

Louisa and Anne immediately voiced their desires for a ride, and their mother told them to go put on their warm coats, hats, and gloves in preparation.

Turning to her, John said, “And you, Mrs. Wood? May I interest you in a sleigh ride?”

“I thank you, Mr. Plumptre, but I am afraid the outdoors is not to my liking when it is this cold. I will leave it to you younger ones.”

“Miss Wood, can I…tempt you?” he asked, a dimple next to his mouth as he stood looking at her, waiting for her answer.

“I think that sounds delightful!” she answered, her eyes sparkling at him.

As soon as Louisa bounded down the stairs to her mother’s chastisement to slow her movements, John took her outside and helped her into the sleigh. She was excited to be the first to ride with him, and the runners flew over the compact snow, the sunshine that was beginning to break through the clouds causing it to sparkle as they headed for a copse of yew trees a short distance away. She squealed at the speed with which they were traveling as they passed the trees and continued on for some minutes before turning around to begin the trip back to the house.

By the time they returned, Anne was impatiently waiting for her turn. She scrambled into the sleigh as soon as Louisa had vacated her seat, and they were off. Out past the yew trees they went, flying over the snow as Anne tried to hold back unladylike exclamations, excited to be out of the house and moving at great speed.

When her turn was over, she climbed back out of the sleigh with some decorum, remembering her manners as John helped her out. He took Charlotte’s hand and helped her into the seat, then went around to get in on the other side, drawing close to tuck the blankets around her. Her breathing quickened as he came near and smiled at her rogueishly, then he pulled away again and their trip began.

Out past the copse of trees he went once again, but as they passed it and went behind, John brought the sleigh to a stop. Turning to Charlotte, he gave her a mischievous grin.

“Hello,” he said.

Charlotte laughed. “Was this merely a plot to get me out here alone?” she asked.

“Not entirely,” he answered as she laughed again. “I truly did think you must be feeling quite confined at home and wanted to rescue you from the dreary imprisonment.”

He wrapped his arms around her and slowly pulled her closer.

“But it has also been entirely too long since I was able to hold you, and to feel your lips against mine.”

His eyes drank in her features before he slowly leaned in, tilting his head as she lifted hers and closed her eyes.

The kiss was sweet and unhurried, the two of them savouring the feeling of being together this way after weeks of maintaining a physical distance. Charlotte slid her gloved hands up John’s chest and clasped them around his neck, sighing into his mouth as he kissed her again. She whimpered as she pressed against him, wanting to be closer, and John groaned in response to the feel of her lithe form, clutching her tightly as their tongues began to tease one another.

He pulled away several minutes later, placing his forehead against hers, both of them now a little breathless. He brought his hand up and cupped her cheek with it, dropping a few more soft kisses against her mouth before he sat back to look her in the eyes.

“I want to call on you, my love. I cannot wait any longer. Will you allow me to do so?” he asked.

“I would like nothing more, dearest John,” she answered, leaning up to give him another kiss.

He beamed at her answer, overjoyed that he would, at last, be able to make his intentions towards her known. John kissed her for a few moments more before sighing, declaring that they should return before the length of their absence was noted.

As they pulled up to the house, they could see Louisa watching them from the drawing room window. She quickly appeared at the front door, asking if she could take another turn in the sleigh.

“Come on then!” said John, laughing as he helped Charlotte out and back onto solid ground. “And will you be taking another turn later?” he asked her quietly.

“I would like nothing more, dearest John,” she whispered in his ear, repeating her earlier answer and biting her lip as he gave her a predatory look before he turned and assisted Louisa, then climbed back in himself.

After Louisa, Anne had another turn, then Charlotte. Charlotte’s trip was just as delightful as the first, their kisses becoming more passionate the second time until both were breathing heavily when they pulled away from one another.

John came inside to bid Charlotte’s family goodbye before leaving to return the sleigh and horses. He would not see them tomorrow as the weather would still not allow carriage trips, but he whispered to Charlotte before he left that he would see her the following Saturday.

**

Charlotte’s stomach fluttered with anticipation all Saturday morning, awaiting John’s arrival. Thankfully the snow had melted earlier in the week, so traveling would be easier for everyone and he would be riding a horse instead of needing to rent a sleigh to visit again. She thought back to the conversation she had had with her mother earlier in the week.

“Mama, Mr. Plumptre has asked to call upon me,” she said.

“Was he not already doing so?” her mother asked, eyes twinkling and a knowing expression on her face.

“He was calling upon the family, Mama!” said Charlotte with an attempt at a chiding tone, which failed when she could not keep the smile from her face.

“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Wood. “Well, this is news indeed then! And when are you to expect dear Mr. Plumptre’s call?”

“Saturday. I thought perhaps Anne and Louisa might use the parlour that day?”

“I am quite sure that I can see to that,” she answered.

And indeed she had, for she had set Anne and Louisa to work on practising their music as the hour for John’s arrival approached. Charlotte picked up her needlework, then set it down again when her fingers felt too clumsy to stitch. She crossed to the bookcase and looked over the spines of the volumes, but the words blurred together. She was paging through her sketchbook aimlessly when Mr. Pike announced Mr. Plumptre’s arrival.

He entered the drawing room, looking more nervous than Charlotte had seen him ever before, which eased her own nerves.

“Won’t you please sit? Would you like some tea?” she asked.

“I thank you, Miss Wood. Yes, that would be lovely.”

Mr. Pike went to inform Mrs. Carter of the need for a tea tray as the couple took their seats after John greeted Mrs. Wood, Charlotte’s mother then taking a seat near the windows.

He sat on the smaller of the sofas and lifted his hand to his hair to run it through his curls before catching himself and putting it back down to his side.

Charlotte smiled fondly at him and seated herself in an armchair next to the sofa where he was sitting. It felt strange to have such a formal call after the time they had already spent together, and the affection they had shared. Charlotte was afraid that the entire visit might feel awkward.

“Have you been well, Mr. Plumptre?”

“I have, thank you. And you are well? And your family?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

She was quiet for a moment before she thought of a question to ask. “Have you been busy at work?”

“I have, yes.”

John was telling her about his week when they heard the approach of Charlotte’s sisters from down the hall.

“Mr. Plumptre! I thought I heard you! Would you like to play a game with us?” Louisa asked.

“I thank you, Miss Louisa, but I cannot today,” he answered with a soft smile.

“Why not?” she asked.

John flushed a bit and looked at Charlotte. Before he could answer, Mrs. Wood spoke from her chair by the window.

“Mr. Plumptre is visiting your sister today,” she said.

A look of confusion crossed Louisa’s face at this information. “Why?” she asked.

Now Charlotte was blushing, too, as Anne looked from one of them to the other. She could see the wheels turning in her sister’s head and the pleased smile that appeared on the girl’s face warmed her.

“Come, Louisa. Let’s go practise the new Handel piece,” said Anne, skillfully attempting to divert Louisa’s attention and give her sister and John more privacy for their visit. She took hold of Louisa’s hand and began to gently pull her back towards the parlour.

“But we already did that too--ow, why are you pinching me?!” they heard Louisa say as her voice retreated from the drawing room.

“One can never improve one's musical skills too much,” answered Anne primly. They heard whispering as the girls moved further down the hallway but could not tell what Anne was saying to Louisa. They did, however, hear the younger girl’s answer quite clearly.

“Oh! Well, why did someone not just say so?”

At that, John and Charlotte burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer as Mrs. Wood shook her head, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. One would think she had not taught her girls any polite manners whatsoever.

**

Their visit had felt much more natural after the interruption from Anne and Louisa. The tension had been broken and the ease that was usually between them returned. They enjoyed the tea, and the tarts that Mrs. Carter had sent with it, as they shared quiet conversation, Mrs. Wood discreetly placing her attention elsewhere for the duration of their visit.

When it was time for John to go, he took Charlotte’s hand and bowed over it. She knew that he would, at the very least, kiss her fingers if he thought he could get away with doing so but that he felt it best to refrain with her mother in the room.

He took his leave of them with a promise to see them the next morning at church.

And so they proceeded, the last days of February melting into March, with the beginnings of spring starting to show around them. John would call upon Charlotte on Saturdays, and on Sundays, he would attend church and then visit with the whole family at their home afterward.

He and Charlotte were able to steal away a few times for embraces that were becoming increasingly ardent. He had been tempted on several occasions to allow his hands to wander, and he did not know if Charlotte would be upset with him or encourage him if he did. If she were upset with him, he would not be able to forgive himself. And if she encouraged him, he did not know how he would stop himself.

As the calendar turned to April, John made a decision. He knew that it was time to take the next step. He wanted to make Charlotte his wife. He _needed_ to make Charlotte his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Caffiend for her beta reading! <3


	9. An Important Question Asked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk in the gardens results in an important decision being made.

On the first Saturday in April, John sat in the Woods’ drawing room, fidgeting nervously as he made conversation with Charlotte and her mother. He was confident in Charlotte’s love for him, but it was difficult not to feel some anxiety about proposing, considering his previous disastrous attempt with Fanny.

The words would not come to him that time, several years before. Every sentence felt wrong until he finally gave up, feeling humiliated, and left without a backward glance. Perhaps that should have been a sign to him that he was not doing the right thing, but either fate or Providence had saved him from his own foolishness.

This time was different. He knew without a doubt that he loved Charlotte and that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life, and he was sure that she felt the same way. All that remained was to ask her.

He determined that he would not be cowardly. He would speak sincerely, not worrying about flowery speech or saying things perfectly. Charlotte would know his heart. She already did.

“Miss Wood, it is a fine afternoon. Would you care to take a turn about the garden?” he asked, impressing himself with the steadiness of his voice.

Charlotte looked to her mother, who gave a slight nod of acquiescence.

“Let me get my pelisse,” she said, smiling at John before leaving him alone with her mother.

He looked over at Mrs. Wood, who smiled at him. Was that a smile of encouragement? Of sympathy?

“It should be a lovely day in the garden,” she said, focusing again on her embroidery.

Encouragement then, it would seem.

**

John offered his arm to Charlotte as they walked the garden paths. He enjoyed the feel of her hand holding on to him as they walked, John steadily steering them toward the hedges.

When they reached the spot where Charlotte had first kissed him on the cheek, when he had first dared to hope that she might have feelings for him, he stopped and turned toward her. Taking first one hand and then the other, he gently removed her gloves so that he could feel her silky skin. Lifting each hand in turn, he kissed her palms softly, slowly, then enveloped her hands within his own. 

Charlotte's heart thumped out a beat as she felt his warm lips press against the bare skin of her hands for the first time. Her breath hitched in her throat, her face was flushed, and her bodice felt too tight. 

She looked down at his long fingers that were enveloping hers. She felt so safe and cherished when she was with him, and his hands wrapped around hers were a physical manifestation of that feeling. She looked up into his eyes and hoped that the adoration she saw there was reflected in her own. She had had her suspicions as to why John had asked her to walk with him, and now she was certain that she was correct.

He spoke in a voice that was fraught with emotion.

“My darling girl, I do not have fine words to offer, nor a prestigious title, nor a splendid estate. But I know you, and I know that none of that matters to you."

She shook her head back and forth but remained silent as she watched him with rapt attention.

"I have already given you my heart, and you have treated it with such care. I desire now to give you my name, and a home. Will you marry me, dearest Charlotte?" 

Charlotte pulled one of her hands out of John's and caressed his cheek as she spoke. 

"I would be honoured to become your wife, John."

Standing on her tiptoes, she sealed her answer with a kiss. 

**

They dared not tarry long in the hedges, for they knew that Mrs. Wood would be expecting them back soon and that Charlotte's sisters might come looking for them if they were to delay. After several pleasant minutes enjoying their newly engaged status, John slipped the gloves back onto Charlotte's hands and they returned to the house, both feeling as though they were walking on air. 

"I know that you are of age, so we do not require your father's consent, but I should like to have it all the same. Do you suppose I might be able to speak with him now?"

"Papa was called away this morning. He said that he did not expect to be home before supper, and possibly even later. Perhaps you can speak with him tomorrow afternoon?" Charlotte suggested. 

John felt a brief surge of disappointment but quashed it immediately. He had waited this long; what was one more day? He would not let the need for patience taint this happy day. 

"Yes, love, I will do that. But I think that we should refrain from sharing our joyous news until I have done so." 

Now it was Charlotte who was disappointed, but she conceded, knowing that it would be best to first secure her father’s approval. 

They returned to the drawing room to an expectant gaze from Mrs. Wood. Charlotte longed to tell her mother, but she would wait until her father had first given them his blessing. 

"Mrs. Wood, it was a pleasure to see you, and I look forward to luncheon tomorrow. Until then," he finished, bowing to her and then to Charlotte before leaving. 

Mrs. Wood watched as Charlotte took her seat, opening her book and staring at the same page for a full fifteen minutes, a radiant smile on her face. If she was not mistaken, and she was rarely mistaken, there were plans to be made.

**

On Sunday, April 6, John fidgeted during the sermon more than he had ever done at any previous point in his life. He could feel Charlotte glancing at him throughout the service and was sure that she wore a look of concern at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

She turned her head slightly during the closing hymn and whispered, "It will be fine," casting him a reassuring smile, which he quickly, albeit less convincingly, returned. 

Lunch at Woodridge was delicious, he was sure, but it tasted like sawdust in John’s mouth. He was simply biding his time, waiting for Mr. Wood to excuse himself to his study for a few minutes, and could not focus on anything else. 

At last the man stood, inviting John to join him for a glass of port. They sat in the comfortable leather chairs and spent a few minutes speaking of local news. When there was a break in the conversation, John mustered the courage to begin. He cleared his throat.

“Sir, I believe you are aware that I have been courting your daughter.”

He waited as the man inclined his head in confirmation, but he did not speak.

“I have asked Charlotte to marry me, and she has agreed. We have not yet told anyone else as we wanted to request your blessing before we shared the news.”

Mr. Wood sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I had hoped to avoid this conversation for a while yet.”

His response made John’s heart feel as if it had slipped into his stomach. Then Mr. Wood continued to speak.

“I need to give this matter some consideration. I am not comfortable giving my blessing today.”

“May I ask why, sir?” John asked, endeavouring to remain respectful and calm despite the roiling in his stomach and the churning thoughts in his mind.

“I need to decide whether or not this is the right thing for Charlotte. There are some who might look down on Charlotte for marrying someone in the legal profession, even though you are a gentleman in the same social class. Additionally, you are a second son with no land to speak of, and I worry that you will not be able to adequately provide for her and any offspring.

“You are a good man, John, and I have seen how happy you have made Charlotte. But I must ask for some time to think,” finished Mr. Wood.

John took a few deep breaths. This was not how he had anticipated this conversation unfolding. He was frustrated and upset, but he needed to keep a clear head. This was the man whom he still hoped to have for a father-in-law, and he did not wish to damage their relationship.

“If I may respond, sir?”

Mr. Wood nodded.

He began with logic, refuting the charges that had been leveled at him.

“I am well aware that there are those who do not think that the law is an appropriate choice for a gentleman to pursue as a vocation. And yet some of those same people have no compunction in availing themselves of a lawyer when the need arises. I have always believed there to be honour in a job well done. I am not ashamed of my occupation, nor is Charlotte. If she cares not for the opinion of those who feel otherwise, then why should you?

“Regarding the second matter, it is true that I will not inherit the family estate. However, my income is more than enough to comfortably provide for Charlotte and, should we be so blessed, for any children we might have. I would not have proposed to her if I could not take care of her and had not already considered our future family.

“Additionally, by living frugally, I have been able to save nearly enough to purchase a home. I anticipate being able to do so before year’s end.”

Facts laid out, he could not prevent himself from appealing to this man at an emotional level.

“You consented before to Charlotte’s match to a wealthy son of a gentleman. He treated her abominably, and she was miserable. I urge you to consider your daughter’s happiness, and not monetary value or status of her suitor, as you make your decision.

“As for me, I am committed to Charlotte and her happiness. We _are_ engaged, and I will remain steadfast.

“You will please excuse me,” he finished, unable to remain in the study any longer.

He stood and bowed, then exited the room. Charlotte was waiting anxiously as he emerged, wearing an expectant smile that he was unable to return. Her brow furrowed when she saw his face, and she rose to move towards him.

He did not approach the drawing room, not desiring further interaction with Charlotte’s family. He did not think that he could hide his feelings, and he was unprepared to conduct a conversation with them should they question him.

He stepped out the front door and waited, knowing that Charlotte would follow. Seconds later, he heard the door open and close again, then Charlotte was standing a few feet behind him, distress evident on her lovely features.

“What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Walk with me,” said John, not wishing for their discussion to be heard by anyone in the house and seeking somewhere more secluded. They walked towards the stables and stepped inside, finding it void of people. The servants often had Sunday afternoons off and had already cared for the horses that morning. They would return later for evening duties, but in the meantime, the stables were quiet and private.

“He is unsure if he wants to give us his blessing,” said John, watching Charlotte’s face alter from concern and confusion to a look of shock.

“What? Why?!” she cried.

“He has a few concerns, which he spoke about with me. They are neither of them insurmountable, and I have shared my own thoughts on the subject in response. I trust that he will make the decision that is best for you, but we need to give him some time.”

“We do not need his blessing, John. I am twenty-one. We can proceed without it. We could go to Gretna Green and be married right away!”

There was a part of John that wanted to throw caution and propriety to the wind and abscond to Scotland with his bride immediately. But he feared that Charlotte would regret alienating her family with such an action, and he truly wished for them to start their married life on the proper footing and with the love and support of both of their families.

“We cannot do that, love. You would regret it, and your family would not have the chance to send us off into our life together properly.”

“So that’s it, then? If he will not give us his blessing, you are going to abide by that? You are going to give up? I thought you wanted to marry me!” she cried, her anguish at the situation causing her to lash out at John as she turned away to flee the stables.

John caught her wrist and quickly tugged her back towards himself, turning her to face him again. The breath was knocked out of her as her soft chest came up rapidly against his firm one, his other arm wrapping tightly around her small waist and holding her securely against his body. She gasped as she looked up and saw his blown pupils and the fierce, possessive look on his face.

He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with more intensity than she had ever felt from him before. He poured out his love, his frustration, his desire, and his anguish into the kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth as he willed her to sense everything that he felt for her and to try to understand.

She was a bit faint when he pulled his mouth away from hers, nuzzling her nose with his own, the two of them both panting for air. He tilted her chin and caught her gaze, and she saw how deeply this situation pained him. She also saw the depths of his feelings for her.

“Did that feel like someone who does not wish to marry you?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered.

“We will marry, my love. We just may need to wait a while longer. Will you do that for me, sweet girl? Will you wait for me?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded but was still quite obviously upset.

“What if Papa never gives us his permission?” she said, her lower lip trembling at the thought.

John kissed her softly, wanting to soothe her distress.

“Well then, my dear Charlotte, I suppose we shall have no other choice than for me to carry you off to Scotland and marry you over the anvil after all!” he said, at last eliciting a smile from his beautiful bride-to-be.

He would not be put off forever, but he hoped that it would not come to an elopement. He would far rather begin their married life on a more secure foundation than that, one that they had built with the support of Charlotte’s family.

**

Charlotte went straight to her room after she returned to the house, pleading a headache. She remained there through dinner as she had no appetite, anyway.

The rest of the family had a quiet dinner together. Edmund knew that something had happened between Mr. Plumptre and his sister, but he was not sure what. He could feel the tension in the room, however. Anne and Louisa also did not know what had happened, but they, too, could feel that something was wrong.

Mrs. Wood was sure that she knew what had occurred, but she did not understand why her husband would have had such a conversation with Mr. Plumptre that it would have caused the man to leave without saying goodbye, only for Charlotte to run out after him and return a few minutes later with tears in her eyes. It had been so upsetting that Charlotte had been in her room for the rest of the day.

The dismal mood in the household continued for several more days. Charlotte joined them for meals and time in the drawing room, but her face was pale and she often had dark circles under her eyes. Conversation was kept to a minimum, both from her and from the rest of the family. Even Louisa was quiet, casting frequent worried glances at her eldest sister but not daring to ask what was happening.

Margaret Wood hoped that Thomas would come to his senses and correct what he had put wrong. She had expected that he would do so independently of her interference, but as it was now Thursday evening and he had not yet done so, it would seem that he was in need of a little push.

The girls were now upstairs, spending some time in quiet pursuits until it was time to ready for bed. Edmund was reading in the drawing room, and Thomas was hiding out in his study. He knew that his wife was not well-pleased with him and had been waiting for her wrath to be unleashed.

She knocked on the study door and he bid her enter. Mrs. Wood closed the door behind herself, then sat down in the chair across the desk from her husband and waited.

When the silence grew uncomfortable, he finally said, “What is it, my dear?”

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I do not know what you mean,” he answered, but his guilty tone was obvious even to his own ears.

“Do not speak falsehoods to me, husband. Mr. Plumptre left here hastily on Sunday afternoon after talking with you. Charlotte returned after speaking with him, then went to her room and remained there for the rest of the day. She has continued to keep to herself for much of the time since. When she is with us, she looks unwell and her behaviour and demeanour are solemn. Mr. Plumptre and Charlotte wish to become engaged and you have done something to quash their hopes. Is that not so?”

He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, then finally met his wife’s gaze.

“They have already become engaged. He asked for my blessing, and I could not give it to him.”

“What possible objections could you have to that fine young man?” said his wife, greatly distressed.

“Mr. Plumptre _is_ a fine young man, but I am concerned that he lacks the resources to support Charlotte adequately and fear that his occupation will cause them difficulties when it comes to societal acceptance.”

“We have always planned on a generous dowry for Charlotte. But even if we had not, I am sure that Mr. Plumptre is responsible and hardworking and that his compensation is more than adequate to provide for her. He is Mr. Tibbetts’ partner, after all,” began Mrs. Wood.

“But I am surprised, and more than a little dismayed, that you would consider the approbation of others in whether or not to give your blessing. Charlotte has had to endure far too much judgment and scrutiny already and for no reward whatsoever. Do you think that it matters to her whether or not Carshalton society approves of her match with the man that she loves?”

She waited for an answer, but he would not meet her eyes, nor did he respond.

“I believe that there is something else bothering you. What is it, Thomas?” she asked, her tone gentling as she saw the struggle on his face.

“I had pushed for Charlotte’s previous match, thinking it to be in her best interests, only to find that I was woefully mistaken. I failed Charlotte once before when it came to her marital prospects. I do not wish to do so again. I want to be sure that this is the right thing for her,” he said, speaking softly.

“Oh, Thomas. I must admit that I was not entirely comfortable with her marrying Charles Saunderson. I should have spoken up, and firmly, but I did not. I am as much to blame for that as you are.

“But it has all turned out for the best. Charlotte is free from him, and she clearly loves Mr. Plumptre. And he loves her. I think you must agree that’s true.”

He nodded his head at his wife.

“We cannot allow him to continue to call on Charlotte indefinitely. It is not fair to either of them and will only lead to the type of assumptions that you would wish to avoid.

“What’s more, Charlotte is twenty-one and does not need your approval to marry. But it was important enough to both of them to ask you for it nonetheless. She will not want to go against your wishes, but if it comes to either doing that or giving up Mr. Plumptre forever, which do you think she will do? Do you really wish to put her in a position where she must make that choice?”

“No. No, I do not,” he answered quietly. “I will speak to John this Saturday when he comes to call. You do suppose that he will still call, don’t you?”

His wife smiled at him. “I do not think that there is anything that would keep him away. He is a man in love, and he will not be scared away so easily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my appreciation goes out to you, Caffiend, Beta Reader and Cheerleader!


	10. An Urgent Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a surprise visit to Woodridge and finds an unexpected situation.

It was just after 6pm on Friday, the 11th day of April, and John was on his way to Woodridge on the back of a horse. He could not wait even one more day to speak again with Mr. Wood, to try to persuade him to give his consent to John and Charlotte to marry. 

As he rode, he went over once again what he planned to say, rehearsing it aloud at times. He did not know if he would be any more compelling than he seemed to have been last Sunday, but he would employ his most persuasive skills for the endeavour. 

He arrived at the estate to find a bustle of activity at the stables, yet no one came out to meet him and take the horse. Ordinarily, the groom or one of the stable boys did so. He did not mind caring for his own horse as he had done it many times at his uncle’s estate, but he had some slight concern over the change in the normal routine.

He dismounted and walked the horse into the stables, only to be met by a chaotic scene. Mr. Wood, Edmund, and Charlotte were all down at the end of the row, next to Artemis’ stall. He could hear the voices of what sounded like the two stable boys there and guessed that they were in with Artemis.

He recalled that Charlotte had said Artemis was expecting a foal in May. It would appear that she had gone into labour prematurely. He was surprised that Charlotte was present as most upper class families shielded their young women from such events, but he supposed that Mr. Wood would not have been able to keep Charlotte from her favourite horse during such a time.

He quickly put his horse in one of the stalls and made his way down to the end. Peering in, he could see Artemis lying on her side, the stable boys sitting near her tail. He saw no sign of the groom, Reed. Charlotte, Thomas, and Edmund all appeared quite distressed.

“What’s happening? Tell me quickly,” he said, his authoritative tone commanding everyone’s attention and bringing with it a sense of calming reassurance.

Charlotte was the first one to answer him.

“Artemis began to foal unexpectedly this afternoon. Something has gone wrong. Artemis has had no trouble with past deliveries, but she has been laying on her side for nearly half an hour, and there is still no foal.”

Timothy, one of the stable boys, spoke next. “Mr. Reed left this morning on an errand, and we thought he would be back by now, but something has delayed him. I don’t think the foal is turned right, sir, but we don’t know what to do.”

John had already removed his coat and had begun to unbutton his waistcoat.

“What are you doing?” asked Mr. Wood.

“There is no time to delay. We must get that foal out as soon as possible, for both its own safety and that of Artemis.”

John pulled off his waistcoat and tossed it to the side where he’d already discarded his coat. Tugging at his cravat, he pulled that off, too, and it joined his waistcoat and coat on the ground.

“Do you know what to do?” asked Mr. Wood, still looking concerned but grateful that John thought he might be able to help.

Charlotte moved to the clothing and picked it up to brush it off and lay it over the railing as John unbuttoned the buttons at the throat of his linen shirt and rolled up his sleeves above his elbows.

“I suspect that the foal may not have rotated fully and is on its side, judging by the positioning of its hooves,” said John. “I have seen this once before, at my uncle’s estate. The veterinarian was able to rotate the foal the remainder of the way in order to allow it to be born successfully. I believe I can do it. I was fascinated by the process and watched him carefully. Are you willing to allow me to try?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Plumptre. Artemis is very special to us, and if you can help her deliver safely, I will be indebted to you.”

Charlotte approached and, with beseeching eyes, laid her hand on John’s forearm. Her touch felt like a brand upon his bare skin. “Please,” she simply said, her eyes luminous and only just holding back tears. 

John moved closer to Artemis and dropped down to his knees, positioning himself at her back end so that he could see what was happening. He could hear her laboured breathing, the horse exhausting herself trying to push out the improperly positioned foal. He was sure now that his earlier assessment was correct and that the foal was on its side. Its feet were pointing to the nine o’clock position, rather than the six o’clock position where they should be turned.

“Timothy, I shall require your assistance,” he said to the stable boy.

Timothy moved next to him and listened as John rapidly gave him instructions. John then grasped the lower leg of the foal as Timothy grasped its upper leg.

Working together, John and Timothy gently rotated the foal’s legs, John lifting the lower leg upward as Timothy pushed the upper leg down and toward the midline. 

Charlotte stood anxiously watching and praying, hoping that this would work and that Artemis would be able to deliver safely. She soon found herself distracted by the muscles in John’s forearms and the ones she could see across his back, his linen shirt beginning to cling to his rapidly dampening skin. The work was stressful and very physical, and he and Timothy were both becoming sweaty from the exertion. She shook her head, feeling a little ashamed at how her thoughts had wandered in Artemis’ time of need, and focused again on what was happening.

It felt as if an eternity had passed, but after several contractions and John and Timothy working together with Artemis’ movements, the foal had been turned and its feet were now in the six o’clock position. Several more contractions later and the foal at last slid out of its mother, to the jubilant relief of all.

John stood up, grabbing a damp towel that Patrick, the other stable boy, had fetched for him. He cleaned off his hands and arms as much as he could, but he knew that he would need a bath later. He did not look forward to riding back home in dirty, sweaty clothing, then waiting until he’d returned the horse and heated up the water before hauling it to the tub he used at home.

But it was a small price to pay in order to have been able to have helped Artemis and to have eased Charlotte’s anguish.

Thomas approached John, gratitude evident on his face. “I can never thank you enough, John,” he said, his voice thick with surprising sentiment.

“There’s no need, sir,” answered John. “I’ll stay with Artemis and watch to be sure that she finishes her delivery safely and that the foal is able to stand up and nurse. We should know within the next one to two hours if all is well, but I think it will be now.”

“You are doing exhausting work, and it will be late by the time you are finished. I insist that you stay the night with us,” said Thomas. “After you are through here, you can come in and have a bath, then have something to eat. We have a guest room that you can use for the night. I will go and let the staff know so that everything will be prepared when you require it.”

With that, he clapped his hand on John’s shoulder, then turned and left the stables for the house, sending Timothy to go get cleaned up. Edmund went with him after offering John his own thanks.

Charlotte had been watching John during his conversation with her father. Now that the greatest worry for Artemis was over, she could not help but notice the sheen of sweat across his skin, trickling down in a few places; how a few of his curls were hanging down over his forehead; and the way that his shirt clung to his chest, stomach, and back. She was transfixed and continued to look until well after her father and Edmund had taken their leave.

Once she tore her gaze away from John’s torso, she saw that he was looking at her, amusement in his expression. But she also saw a gleam of desire in his eyes. He knew that she had been looking at his body, and he seemed to have liked it.

“I fear that your shirt has been ruined beyond saving,” said Charlotte, providing an excuse for her gaze that she knew did not fool John.

He gave a slight laugh before responding.

“No matter. It means nothing compared to the safe birth of Artemis’ foal.”

Turning to the other stable boy, Charlotte spoke.

“Patrick, Mr. Plumptre could use another damp towel. Would you please get him one?”

Patrick hurried off to fulfill her request, a shy smile on his face.

Charlotte threw herself into John and embraced him, something she had been longing to do since he had arrived.

“Darling, I’m filthy! You’ll ruin your dress!” he said, holding his arms out to the side, surprised that she did not seem to mind his current grimy, sweaty state.

“I don’t care!” she cried. “You were magnificent! I have never seen anything like it before, and it only made me love you more when I thought that would have been impossible.”

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair and returning her embrace for a few moments before releasing her to avoid discovery by Patrick upon his return.

It was not a moment too soon as the boy reentered the stables with fresh towels and water for John to do a bit more washing up.

**

John sat down to a late supper several hours later, Artemis having gained strength since delivering her foal, and the foal itself now able to stand and nurse from her mother. He was confident that both mother and baby would be alright.

Reed had arrived home an hour after the foal’s birth, shocked and dismayed to find out what had happened in his absence. He had stopped to help a neighbour whose carriage axle had broken, having no way of knowing what was happening at Woodridge. He felt horribly guilty that Artemis had gone into labour so quickly and swore that he would never go far from the estate again when a mare was within five or six weeks of their expected date of foaling.

Mr. Wood assured him that he could not have anticipated this and that John had done a fine job in his stead. Reed had been grateful that John had been present and had the knowledge to help Artemis. He would not stop thanking John and told him that he would be remembering him in his prayers every night.

Once John had been able to hand over the care of Artemis and her foal to the groom, he realised how exhausted he was. He took advantage of the hot bath that the footmen had drawn for him in the master bedroom near the fireplace, then dressed in borrowed clothing that was a bit ill-fitting but would serve well enough for the evening.

Mr. Wood told him that he would have a footman fetch a fresh outfit for him from his flat in the morning. That way John could avoid prying questions or vulgar rumours from arriving back home in the borrowed set, should anyone who knew him see him.

Now he was nearly nodding off over the stew that Mrs. Carter had warmed up for him. He finished it, complimenting the woman, who had insisted on staying in the kitchen and fussing over him when John had said he would eat at the small table there. He declined the pudding, too tired to truly enjoy it, then left to ready himself for bed.

Mr. Wood’s words from when he had shown him to the guest room earlier echoed in his head: “Be mindful that some of the stairs squeak.”

He had fully understood the implied warning that any attempt to sneak upstairs to see Charlotte overnight would result in a dire outcome. He did not blame the man for wanting to make that clear, although John would not risk jeopardising his bid for her hand by doing such a thing. Nor would he wish to compromise her, and sneaking into her bedroom late at night would put him in a position where the temptation to do so would be too great.

He climbed under the fluffy bedding and sank into the pillow. He was sure that he would be asleep within moments and would not wake until morning. He was slumbering seconds later, thoughts of Charlotte in his head. 

**

Charlotte had gone back to the house to change her clothing and eat dinner with her family. When she had readied for bed, she had thought that she would sleep well, fatigued as she was from both the high emotions of the day and the troubled sleep she had been having all week. But she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable enough position. She tried counting sheep, but her mind wandered off in too many other directions, as it usually did. 

At nearly one in the morning, she gave up on sleep for the time being. She got up and put on her slippers, then pulled on her dressing gown and tied it at the waist. She lit a candle to take with her.

Creeping quietly down the hallway in the hushed house and taking care to avoid the noisy stairs, she made her way downstairs to the drawing room, intent upon finding a book to take her mind off of everything and hopefully enable herself to get drowsy. She stepped through the doorway and stopped short when she saw John standing in front of one of the bookcases.

“Oh!” she quietly exclaimed, causing John to startle and quickly turn, the flame of the candle he was holding flickering.

“Miss Wood!” he answered, then looked sheepish. “Charlotte,” he said in a fond voice. “How did you make it downstairs undetected?”

Charlotte's heart was pounding, first from unexpectedly finding someone else in the drawing room, then from seeing John in his borrowed nightshirt. She had never seen a man in such a state of undress before. Even when her father and Edmund were in their nightclothes, they wore dressing gowns over them. 

"I know which steps squeak," she managed to answer.

John laughed softly as she continued. 

"I could not go to sleep. I had thought that a book might make me drift off more easily." She drew nearer to John and the bookshelves as she spoke.

Her hushed voice and slightly breathless state were intoxicating to John, as was her appearance. She was wearing a pale yellow lace-trimmed silk dressing gown over a night shift. He knew that she was not wearing a corset, and he had never seen her without one before. She had plaited her hair in one long braid, and it was hanging down her back. She looked soft, lovely, and so appealing.

She stood very still under his scrutiny, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as he looked at her. She was within a few feet of him now.

John turned and set his candlestick down on top of the bookshelves. Then he carefully took Charlotte’s and did the same. Turning back to her, he drew close enough to feel her warmth through the thin layers covering her body.

He slowly reached his hand up and took hold of the plait down her back. Lifting it gently, he pulled it over her shoulder and untied the ribbon that was holding the braid together. He waited for an objection from Charlotte, but she gave none, simply watching him raptly as her breathing quickened. 

He used his fingers to tenderly separate and smooth the strands of her hair until they lay in soft curls down her back. Running his fingers through her now loose tresses, he reveled in their silkiness and the way that they gleamed under the candlelight. 

Charlotte had been watching his face as he had loosened her hair. She knew that what she was seeing there was his desire for her. It was dangerous to be together at this late hour, with no one else around and in only their nightclothes. But she could not find it within herself to object to the liberties he was taking, nor to remove herself from his presence.

She found her gaze lowering to his chest. His nightshirt was fastened at the throat, but there was a gap under the fastening that showed an expanse of his skin. She could see hair on his chest, and the firm muscles underneath his skin. She wanted to feel him, and there was no one around to stop her.

She lifted her hand and touched him with the lightest caress of her fingertips, hearing a sharp intake of breath from John as she did. Suddenly she found herself crushed against his chest, one of John’s arms around her waist as his other hand tangled itself in her hair, holding the back of her head as he kissed her urgently. 

She returned his passion with equal ardor, wanting nothing else in the moment except to be close to John. She felt a dampening between her legs and a pressure building there that was quickly becoming an ache. She had felt the sensations before, on several other occasions when John had kissed her. She did not quite know what it meant, but she was sure that only being even closer to John would assuage it.

She pressed more of her body up against his and heard him hiss in response. She could feel something hard beneath his nightshirt, moving against her stomach. She pulled back wide-eyed to look at John as he moved his hands to her arms and put more space between them. She was concerned that she had hurt him in some way in her enthusiasm.

John felt ashamed at his lack of self-control as he stood panting in front of Charlotte, gazing down at the floor as he struggled to regain some modicum of restraint. How could he treat Charlotte in such a way? He had been rough with her, and too familiar when she was not yet his wife.

He had always been so careful with his behaviour in the past, but all of his diligent adherence to rules evidently meant nothing when faced with his beautiful, desirable woman and an empty room late at night. He was sure that he had frightened Charlotte with his fervour.

He finally looked at her once again, expecting to see fear or perhaps disapproval on her features. Instead, he saw compassion and concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, obviously not knowing why he had pulled away. Charlotte was even more innocent than he had thought if she did not realise that what she had felt was his manhood, and that his reaction had been one of passion, not pain.

That knowledge gave him the strength to bring himself under control again. His sweet Charlotte was eager but still so chaste. He drew close enough to kiss her softly on the forehead.

“I am fine, my sweet girl. My body was responding to your nearness and your enthusiasm, showing you how much I want you. But it is not yet time.

“I think that we should return to our rooms. However, if your father does not consent, and very soon,” he said, slipping into a Scottish accent, “then I will take my bonny English lass and run away to Scotland. I dinnae ken how much longer I can wait.”

Charlotte tenderly smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as she placed her hand on his cheek, then turned to take up her candlestick and go back upstairs.

“Sweet girl!” he called softly, just as she reached the doorway. “Your hair!”

He held her ribbon out to her and she set her candlestick back down, quickly replaiting and tying her hair before picking the candle up again and leaving.

John lingered in the drawing room for a few minutes, unsure if a book would still be helpful. In the end, he returned to the guest room without one, knowing that he would only be staring at the pages of any book he tried that night. He lay in bed for several hours before both his body and mind finally calmed enough for him to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the lovely Caffiend for her beta-reading skills and encouragement!
> 
> Also, I did a fair amount of research into horse births for this chapter but do not have any first-hand experience with horses (except for a few very beginner-level rides). Please forgive any mistakes I may have made in describing the process.


	11. An Exercise in Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte have a conversation with Thomas, and each endures discomfort to gain knowledge.

Charlotte and John both slept late the next morning, grateful that it was Saturday and that they were able to do so. John was not the only one who had taken several hours to go to sleep after their encounter in the drawing room. Charlotte was smothering yawns when she finally appeared for a late breakfast two hours after the rest of the family had eaten.

She found John at the dining table and smiled shyly at him as she went to fill her plate from the dishes Mrs. Carter had prepared. She knew that it had been a trying night for the family and had been all too happy to cook more food when John had risen for the day, making more than enough for Charlotte as well.

They shared quiet conversation over their meal. When they were nearly done, Thomas stepped into the dining room and gained their attention.

“When you are through eating, I would like to see both of you in my study.”

His face gave no indication of his mood.

Did he know about the drawing room last night? Charlotte could not help but wonder, and from the expression on John’s face when she met his eyes, he was wondering the same thing. Charlotte’s heart began to pound as she anticipated the coming talk with her father.

They finished quickly and went straight to the study. Her father had left the door open and he invited them in, then asked John to shut the door behind him.

John and Charlotte settled themselves into chairs across the desk from where Mr. Wood was sitting. His expression was sober as he studied their faces.

Charlotte thought that John could surely hear the beat of her heart as it threatened to try to escape from her chest. She wanted to take his hand to draw on his strength, but she dared not.

“Plumptre, I think we need to discuss what happened last night.”

Charlotte’s rapidly-beating heart now fell into her stomach. How had he discovered them? She was sure that their clandestine encounter had gone unnoticed. Was her father about to send John away?

“The timing of your appearance yesterday evening was nothing short of a miracle. If you had not been here, we would have lost that foal, and likely Artemis as well. It can only have been the hand of Providence that sent you here at the right time to help.

“I told you last night that I would be indebted to you if you were able to help Artemis deliver her foal safely. And I am.

“But I want you to know that I had already made my decision regarding your proposal to Charlotte before you had arrived. And your actions do not alter my conclusion.

“They do, however, reinforce it.”

For the first time since her father had come into the dining room that morning, Charlotte’s breathing began to ease and her hope to rise. Turning to Charlotte, Mr. Wood continued.

“I know that you do not always understand the choices I have made on your behalf. I have always tried to make decisions that I believed to be right for you and for the rest of this family. I will confess that I was wrong in attaching you to Charles Saunderson. Sometimes my stubbornness and my desire to avoid the judgment of others has led me to hold to things that I should have let go.

“I am sorry for what you have gone through, not just since Charles eloped, but during the time when I was insisting upon your wedding him. I should have consulted you and your mother, and then listened to what you had to say.”

Mr. Wood now looked at John before speaking again.

“I would be proud to have you as my son-in-law, John.”

John could hardly believe what he was hearing. The lawyer in him needed to hear Thomas say it in a way that was completely unambiguous.

“Does this mean that we have your consent, sir?”

“You have our blessing and full support, John. We are pleased to welcome you into our family.”

Charlotte’s eyes filled as she turned to look at John, seeing her elation and relief mirrored on his own face.

“Thank you, Papa!” she cried, moving around the desk to embrace him.

“There is no need to thank me, child,” he said, voice thickened with emotion. “I should not have made you wait for the answer.”

“Regardless, I must give you my thanks, sir,” said John, rising and shaking Thomas’ hand. He longed to say more but did not wish to make Thomas uncomfortable.

“John, Philip brought back a set of your clothing this morning,” said Mr. Wood, changing the subject. “It is in the guest room now, should you wish to change.”

Charlotte and John left the study. As they passed by the drawing room, Charlotte pulled John in and into a corner of the room, where she began planting kisses all over his face as he laughed in delight. He finally took hold of her face gently and kissed her softly before he pulled back, hands at her waist.

“I know that we will be given more freedom now that we are betrothed, but I think that we should be a bit more discreet, darling,” he said.

“I know, my love. I am sorry. I was momentarily overcome by my zeal,” she said, with a look that was completely lacking in contrition.

“And I look forward to experiencing more of your zeal when we are truly alone,” he said, his voice lowering and taking on a growl that caused Charlotte to feel that pressure between her legs again.

She whimpered, causing his eyes to darken and his fingers to curl into her sides.

“How soon can we be married?” she asked.

“If I speak with Reverend Gooding today, we can start the waiting period right away. The banns can be read on April 20th, April 27th, and May 4th, and we can be married any time after that.”

“May 5th, then?” she asked, biting her lip in anticipation.

He leaned down and kissed her again, then spoke against her mouth.

“May 5th it is.”

**

John had changed into the clothing that Philip brought for him, then promptly rode off to speak with the rector. Now that Charlotte was his, he wanted to set everything in motion immediately. He knew that she would be busy making plans for their wedding and for setting up their home together as husband and wife, a thought that sent a thrill through him. In less than a month, Charlotte Wood would be his wife. He was the most blessed of men.

John needed to make some plans of his own. After he spoke with the rector, he would visit James Tibbetts to discuss taking a week off of work to spend with his new bride. He would arrange for a longer honeymoon in a few months, when he could rearrange his workload to ensure that nothing would be neglected in his absence, but he wanted to have some time away with Charlotte immediately after the wedding.

He also needed to make a quick visit to London. Next Saturday would likely be the best day to do so. He had a purchase to make, and preferred to make it where he would not be known.

**

Charlotte had felt as if she was walking on air for the rest of the day after John had left. Her father had enthusiastically consented to her marriage. She would be married to the man she loved in just a few short weeks, which suddenly seemed interminable. She almost wished she had been able to talk John into Gretna Green after all.

Charlotte’s mother hugged her tightly upon hearing the news that their engagement was proceeding, then immediately began to speak of the tasks that needed to be done.

“So much to do, and only a little over three weeks! Oh, my!”

By the end of the day, Mrs. Wood had consulted with Mrs. Carter on the wedding cake and the menu for the wedding breakfast, sent a message to her favourite seamstress regarding Charlotte’s new dress, and begun writing invitations for those who would be invited either for the ceremony (close family and a few of Charlotte’s friends) or the breakfast (neighbours, business associates, acquaintances, and members of their parish). She also made a note to ensure that the newspaper announcement of the engagement was placed that week, with a marriage announcement scheduled for after the ceremony.

Margaret and Charlotte would visit the seamstress on Monday so that she could get the appropriate measurements and begin sewing Charlotte’s dress. Her mother had urged her to follow in Princess Charlotte’s footsteps and have the gown embellished with silver embroidery. Charlotte, however, had decided she would select a more practical design that she could wear for other occasions, not wishing to be too extravagant by getting something she would only wear once. Light blue, perhaps - she knew that John always liked her in blue.

Charlotte somehow managed to get a few hours of sleep that night and woke up on Sunday excited to see John again. He sat next to her in the family pew, their hands constantly brushing against one another, sending little tingles of excitement through both of them.

After church and luncheon at Woodridge, John took Charlotte for a drive in a curricle that he had rented for the day. At last, they were able to be together without a chaperone. Although John had taken Charlotte out in the sleigh a few months before, they had both been very conscious of the risk that they were taking in being alone together. Now, it was something that was permitted, and they both were buoyant with the freedom that provided.

John drove the curricle along a wooded path that took them towards a stream. As they went further into the cover of the trees, Charlotte moved closer and closer to him, John very conscious of the warmth of her body as she did so. He moved one arm around her shoulders as Charlotte curled up against his side.

He was doing well still focusing on his driving until he felt Charlotte’s nose gently nudge against his cheek. Then she began to press her soft lips along the skin, moving down to his jawline as his breathing became a little rougher. When her lips found his neck and began kissing down the length of it, then gently sucking the skin, he groaned and quickly found a place to pull off of the wooded path. He brought the curricle to a stop before turning and grabbing Charlotte, causing her to squeak in surprise and excitement as she pulled her mouth away from his neck.

Her eyes gleamed with both pride and passion when she saw the effect that she was having on John.

“Two can play that game, my love,” he said before moving to place kisses on her eyelids, down her nose, across her cheekbones, then down her face to her neck. He licked her there and heard her soft moan, then he began pressing warm open-mouthed kisses all down her neck.

He kept going when he reached the base, moving across her clavicles, then even further down until his mouth was right at the neckline of her dress. He had noticed the soft swell of her breasts just above her bodice, still appropriate for the service that morning but hinting at tantalising delights just a little lower. As he kissed the tender skin there, Charlotte gasped, then brought her hands up to his hair, holding his head against her as he continued to kiss and lick across the top of her chest.

His hand that was at her waist was splayed out, the long fingers lightly stroking her through the fabric of her dress. Then his hand began to slide upward slowly, so slowly, until the very ends of his fingertips were just brushing against the underside of Charlotte’s breast.

Her breath hitched and her fingers curled into John’s hair. Then she tugged on his locks, pulling his mouth back to hers as she kissed him with increased ardor. She moved one of her hands down and caressed his chest as his fingertips continued the barest of strokes against her breast.

They continued this delicious torture of one another for several minutes, until John finally realised that he needed to stop or else he would be in danger of compromising Charlotte right here in the woods. He would not do that to her, as tempting as the thought was of her spread out beneath him on the forest floor.

He would not treat Charlotte with so little care. Their first time being joined together would not be out here in the open air, before they were even wed.

John tore his mouth away from Charlotte, both of them breathing heavily. When he could speak again, he first gave her a soft kiss, then placed his forehead against hers.

“This is dangerous, my sweet girl. I should have known the temptation to ravish you when I got you out here alone would be almost too much to resist.”

Charlotte’s eyes were huge at his comment. John did not think she knew how close he had been to abandoning all sense and his commitment to keeping their virtue intact until their wedding. Nor did he think she would have had either the strength or the desire to resist him. They would have to be careful about how they spent time alone together, and where, until the next three weeks had passed.

John tucked in Charlotte’s hair where it had come loose from her updo as she smoothed his curls back into place. Then he took up the reins and gently directed the horses back to the path to Charlotte’s home.

**

Six days had passed since John and Charlotte’s ride in the woods. Charlotte had visited the seamstress in Carshalton on Monday. Having her measurements taken and discussing fabric and design made everything seem so much more real, and Charlotte only found her excitement growing.

Charlotte went to see Eleanor on Tuesday to share her news with her, and Eleanor had been elated, as Charlotte had known she would be.

“Are you going away on a wedding trip?” she asked.

“Yes, but not for several months hence, when John is able to take a longer break from work. We are going to take a few days after the wedding, though, and stay somewhere nearby.”

“How about Oak Cottage?” asked Eleanor. “We have no tenants there currently and no family in need of it. I can arrange to have it freshened up and stocked with food. It is not too far to travel, but far enough from Woodridge and from Carshalton that it will feel like you’ve gone away.”

Charlotte had always adored Oak Cottage and thought it a lovely place for anyone to live. It was on the Eastons’ property but about a half-mile from their home, situated near the creek that ran through their property. It was secluded and would give them more than enough privacy, and would be a very special place for them to start their lives as husband and wife.

“I would love that, Eleanor! Thank you! It is a very generous offer,” said Charlotte, embracing her.

Eleanor immediately went in search of pen and paper so that she could make notes about what needed to be done in preparation.

Wednesday and Thursday saw more plans being made with Mrs. Wood. Charlotte did not understand how such a simple affair as a wedding could entail so many preparations, but she was thankful for her mother’s sense of organisation and knowledge of what needed to be done.

John came for dinner on Friday evening as he had told Charlotte previously that he needed to make a quick trip to London the next day. They had gone for a brief walk in the gardens after dinner but returned before too long, trying to avoid the temptation that was threatening to overcome them.

Now it was Saturday, and as Charlotte rested in her room, she found herself wishing that they had taken more time in the gardens. She was missing the physical contact with John and found herself thinking about their curricle ride the previous weekend. How she had wanted John to keep touching her, and to touch her even more intimately than he already was. She wanted to feel his large palm slide further up and close over her breast, stroking it with those long, beautiful fingers of his. She even wanted him to sneak those fingers under the neckline of her bodice and touch the soft skin underneath it. She yearned to feel his hands all over her body.

Charlotte felt as if she would go mad with desire before they were ever able to consummate their marriage. 

Charlotte’s mind then drifted to the time they had spent in the drawing room, late at night when no one else was around. She had enjoyed the feel of his chest under her fingers but had not gotten to touch much of him before he had pulled her against him. Her cheeks warmed when she recalled her body’s response to his closeness and his fervor.

Then she remembered the movement she felt from his own body against her abdomen. She wanted to understand more about what had happened. She had never seen an unclothed man before, but she recalled the sculpture of David and what she had seen between the legs before her father had quickly hurried her past and to the next work of art. Surely that could not be an accurate depiction? What she had felt underneath John’s nightshirt was much more imposing.

She knew that she would be finding out for herself in a few weeks, but she wished that she had a way to learn more before then, to appease her curiosity and perhaps lessen her anxiety about what was going to happen between them. But mixed in with the anxiety was excitement, as well as an eagerness to be known in such a way by John, and a hunger to be joined with him.

There was something trying to make itself known in the back of her mind. As she sat and thought about these things, it occurred to her. She remembered being in Edmund’s room last year and seeing the corner of something sticking out from beneath his mattress. She had pulled it out and found a book that had scandalised her to her very core in the brief moments she had held it before quickly returning it to its hiding place. But now she suspected that it could answer some of her questions, or at least make certain things much clearer to her.

She quietly opened her door, then took soft steps down the hallway to Edmund’s room. She knew that he was out with their father, checking on some of the tenants. They had only been gone a short while and would likely be away for several more hours yet.

Closing his door behind her, she went over to the far side of his bed and knelt down near where she had seen the book previously. Feeling underneath the mattress, she soon came into contact with something. Pulling it out, she found the book she sought.

She got up and sat on the bed and, taking a deep breath, opened the book and began to look at its illustrations. Her cheeks burned scarlet as she saw depictions of men and women in various wanton behaviours. There were a few rare occasions when she had seen animals mating on the estate, but these pictures were so very different than the acts she had witnessed!

In one picture, a naked man was standing in front of his presumed lover. Charlotte stopped on that page and studied the picture. The anatomy between his legs looked far different than what she had seen on the marble statue. Something like this was definitely closer to what she had felt moving against her that night.

Charlotte jumped when the door to the room opened behind her. She quickly tucked the book down on the far side of the bed and held it below the edge as she turned to see her mother standing in the doorway to Edmund’s room.

“Charlotte? What are you doing in here?” asked Margaret.

“Oh, I--I was borrowing something from Edmund and thought he had left it in here for me, but I do not see it.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“It...was...a book?” said Charlotte haltingly.

Charlotte could have sworn the corners of her mother’s mouth twitched a little before she answered.

“I see. Darling, I have been meaning to have a conversation with you before the wedding. If this is a convenient time, perhaps you could meet me in my sitting room, perhaps in five minutes?”

“Of course, Mama. I shall be there directly.”

Mrs. Wood backed out of Edmund’s room and closed the door behind her.

Charlotte breathed out a sigh of relief as she returned the book to its hiding place, although she was not convinced that her mother did not know exactly what she had been doing. She supposed she was about to find out.

**

John’s trip to London saw him on an equally embarrassing errand, once he had purchased the wedding rings. He knew that some men refused to wear a ring, but it had become fashionable to do so if a man chose, and he wanted to bear the symbol of his love for and commitment to Charlotte as openly as she would wear hers for him.

After that, he went in search of a few books of his own, stopping at a reputable London bookshop where he was sure no one would know him. It was far from any of his old haunts when he had been in university.

He found his way to the appropriate section on his own, not daring to ask anyone for guidance. It would be mortifying enough to take his books to the counter to purchase them without having to first ask someone for what he sought.

He was not sure where to start. Which book should he purchase? There was a surprising variety on the shelf in front of him. He pulled one out and opened it and was met by such a shocking sight that he immediately slammed it shut and put it back on the shelf. Not that one, then.

Could he really do this? Did he possess the boldness to purchase and read through one of these books? He had avoided the fruits of the flesh up until now but was concerned that his lack of knowledge would be a hindrance after he and Charlotte were married. He wanted to ensure that Charlotte would enjoy their physical interactions as much as possible, especially once things progressed beyond heated embraces in a carriage or drawing room.

It was discomfiting and felt wrong to look at these volumes, but he wanted to be better educated about the subject beyond only having overheard bawdy conversations while at university. Without having gained any practical experience, he felt it was imperative to have intellectual knowledge that he could employ. And hadn’t the Lord given marital unions as something to be enjoyed? Would it not be wrong of him if he did not do all that he could to bring pleasure to his wife?

These books were being sold by an esteemed bookseller. Surely there were other people of good character who had purchased such tomes. Squaring his shoulders and nodding his head in determination, John reached once again for one of the books on the shelf.

He chose one that looked promising. While the descriptions therein brought a blush to his face, he persisted in looking through. When he reached the illustrations, he almost lost courage again. Good heavens! Did men and women really couple in so many different ways? How could they possibly get into _that_ position? Oh, wait a moment. This one was intriguing. He thought he would quite like to try that one.

Tucking the book under his arm, he continued perusing through the shelves, checking to see if there might be another helpful title there.

**

Charlotte and her mother both were pink-cheeked during their conversation, but they persisted nonetheless. Margaret wanted to ensure that her daughter had a healthy view of the marital act, and Charlotte was determined to find out the answers to at least some of her questions so that she knew a little more about what to expect in a few weeks, when she and John would be married.

Margaret was utterly embarrassed to be having this discussion with Charlotte, but she had determined long ago that her daughters would not go to their marital beds uninformed. She tamped down her discomfiture and forged ahead. Margaret first explained what happened between a man and a woman during the marital act and how their bodies would be affected. She explained that things could be varied a bit, based on what they enjoyed.

“The most important thing, Charlotte, is that you talk about things together. You have to tell one another what feels good and what does not. It can be embarrassing at first, but it is the one way to know what the other person is thinking and what they like. Marital relations should be pleasing for both of you. You should never feel guilty about finding enjoyment in it.”

Charlotte appreciated her mother’s frankness. It made a potentially humiliating talk much more bearable. Her mother had set such an open tone that it made it easy for her to ask the questions that she already had and the ones that had arisen as she had looked at Edmund’s book.

When they were through talking, Charlotte felt that a weight had been lifted. It was not an experience she would wish to repeat, but she now felt much more educated about what to expect. She only hoped that John would be on the same page with his own expectations and wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Caffiend, my awesome beta reader!
> 
> I'm still not sure how many chapters this will end up being, but I'm currently writing Chapter 16 and have a ways to go yet. If I had to guess, I'd say there will be around 24 chapters total. I do have it mapped out, but sometimes parts of the story expand or characters shove their way into greater prominence, or scenes cry out to be written, and things get bumped to the next chapter. Thank you to those of you who are reading! And thank you for the kudos and comments, which are greatly encouraging and appreciated!


	12. A Long-Awaited Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The banns are read, John's family arrives, and John and Charlotte at last are wed.

The first bann was read on Sunday, the 20th of April, as John and Charlotte sat side by side in the church service. Both were having difficulties keeping their minds off of their newfound knowledge of the day before. Each one had a freshly heightened awareness of the nearness of the other, and it resulted in many shared glances that were quickly averted as they both blushed.

Their attention was brought sharply back into focus as the rector began to recite words which were familiar to both of them, but which now had a very personal connection:

*“I publish the Banns of marriage between Mr. John Plumptre of St. Andrew’s Church, Carshalton, and Miss Charlotte Wood of St. Andrew’s Church, Carshalton. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the first time of asking.”

Each of them held their breath, not truly expecting anyone to speak in opposition, but feeling anxiety nonetheless until the moment had passed and Reverend Gooding began to speak once again. The first bann had now been read; two more remained, then their wedding day would follow the day after the third bann was read.

At luncheon afterward, Mrs. Wood noticed how John and Charlotte were both quieter than they usually were. Charlotte kept blushing, and her mother was sure that she knew why. But Mr. Plumptre was also blushing, and Mrs. Wood wondered over the reason. She took pity on the two of them and kept the conversation moving along, involving Charlotte’s siblings frequently and ensuring that there were no drawn-out silences.

After luncheon, John and Charlotte took a walk out in the gardens. Her hand that had been holding his arm slowly slid down and took hold of his own as they got out of sight of the house. They walked quietly for another minute before Charlotte broke the silence.

“Your trip to London was productive?”

John’s face heated at her innocent question. “I thank you, yes. I accomplished what I had intended. And you, your day went well?”

Charlotte’s cheeks pinked very prettily as John looked at her. “Yes, I also was successful in achieving my goals for the day.”

Each wondered what the other had been up to but had no wish to share specifics of their own task, so the questions remained unasked.

“How was the journey? ” asked Charlotte.

“It was quite pleasant, actually,” he answered, beginning to tell her about what he’d seen along the route and a few of the sights in London, albeit leaving out the key parts of his trip.

As they talked, the self-consciousness that had overtaken them dissolved, and an ease in being with one another was there once again. They strolled the gardens for a few more minutes, stealing little kisses along the way, but neither was seeking to take things any further for the time being. It was still fresh in their minds what they had both been learning, and they thought it unwise to put themselves into too much of a tempting situation.

**

The next week went by quickly, with John’s heavier workload keeping him busy at the office and the tasks of planning a wedding and setting up a household with John occupying Charlotte’s time. Soon it was the weekend once again, and John came to call on Charlotte. 

John had been trying to be careful not to have too much time alone with Charlotte, although part of him desperately wanted to have exactly that. There were others around most of the time, and when they were not, they kept their visits on the shorter side.

When he called this time, he once again brought an open carriage, but he and Charlotte invited Anne and Louisa to ride with them. The four of them enjoyed a lively drive through the countryside, the girls delighting in the wind across their faces and the freedom of being out in the open air.

Upon their return, Anne and Louisa went to the house as it was time for them to practise their music. They knew their mother would be asking them if they had done so. Charlotte stayed with John to hand off the horses at the stables before coming inside.

They were surprised to find the stables deserted. Reed, Timothy, and Patrick were nowhere to be found. John unhitched the horses and put them in an empty stall as Charlotte made her way down to Artemis’ stall. She had been to see Artemis and her foal, Athena, regularly since the birth. Athena was progressing well and Artemis was an affectionate mother, frequently nuzzling her foal.

John could hear Charlotte’s sweet voice speaking softly to mother and baby as he approached. He found her sitting on the floor of the stall, the reclining Artemis rubbing her head against Charlotte, who was stroking Athena’s side. He stood and quietly watched her for a minute, his chest warming at the compassionate, loving nature of his bride-to-be.

Charlotte stood when she noticed him watching her.

John softly laughed when he saw the straw now clinging to her skirt as she approached. “My love, people will think we have been rolling around on the stable floor.”

Charlotte now had a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Well, we _are_ all alone in here,” she said, slowly walking towards him.

“I am not rolling around in the straw with you,” he said, laughing again as he backed up while she advanced on him.

“That’s fine,” she said as she reached him and slid her palms up his chest, using gentle pressure to push him up against the wall behind him. “Here will do nicely.”

She slid one hand up into his hair and tugged on it, then gently pulled his head down and kissed him, softly at first, then nibbling and sucking on his lower lip.

John responded fervently to her attentions, pulling her closer to himself and stroking over her back as he returned Charlotte’s kisses. It was not long before he felt himself hardening against her abdomen once again. He was about to move away and give Charlotte some distance when he felt her hand sliding down his stomach, then over the front of his trousers.

He inhaled sharply and pulled away.

“What are you doing?” he asked, momentarily shocked by her boldness.

“I wanted to feel what I was doing to you. Is it … is that all right?” she asked, hesitancy now in her voice.

He groaned and grabbed her arms, pulling her back to him. “Oh, my sweet girl! Yes, it’s good. It’s very good. It was unexpected, but it was a lovely surprise,” he answered as her hand returned to touching him through his trousers.

Their kisses became more heated with this new level of intimacy. John needed more, and he growled before spinning them around and pressing Charlotte up against the wall.

She gasped as her back hit the solid surface, her eyes dilating further with desire and excitement. John’s hands moved around to the front of her and slid up, cupping the softness of her breasts through the bodice, his thumbs feeling the hardened peaks underneath the material. 

Charlotte pulled her mouth away and moaned as John moved his lips to her neck, trying to remember not to leave a mark that would be difficult to explain away. She had never felt like this before, and the ache that she sometimes felt between her legs was more intense than ever. She felt as if something needed to happen, and that she was getting close to whatever it was happening, when suddenly John pulled back and walked a few feet away.

“What is it? What’s wrong, John?” she asked, distressed to think that she had upset him.

“If we do not stop now, my love, I am going to embarrass myself. I have no spare pair of trousers and would not be able to face your family.”

Charlotte’s face flamed when she understood when he was telling her.

“I thought I might have offended you with my wantonness,” she said quietly.

Charlotte’s distress refocused John like nothing else would have.

“No, darling Charlotte, never. Your desire for me is very flattering and only serves to increase mine for you. Please do not think I would ever think less of you for it. I would have liked nothing more than to have continued, but this is neither the time nor the place for that, much as I regret that fact.”

Still breathing hard, John was now feeling calm enough to walk back to Charlotte and take her hands. He waited until she was looking him in the eye to speak.

“Nine more days, and we will have no reason to stop. I very much look forward to being with you as your husband, in every way.”

She smiled shyly at him, reassured that he did not think her reckless or immoral for her actions.

“And I with you,” she answered.

“Perhaps we should take a short walk in the garden before going into the house? I believe I need a few more minutes for…things to calm down.”

Charlotte blushed and nodded as John led her out of the stables.

**

The next day was Sunday, and the reading of the second bann. John had luncheon with the Woods as usual, but he kept his time alone with Charlotte to a minimum. Restraint had been nearly impossible the previous day when they were alone together in an enclosed space, and he knew that if the opportunity presented itself again, the temptation would likely be too great. They were so close to the wedding now, and he was determined to wait until then to consummate their relationship. But had there been any delays in the ceremony, he was not sure they would have been able to restrain themselves from anticipating their marriage vows.

The week that followed was full of last-minute planning, John working longer hours to ensure that everything was in place for his absence, and Charlotte trying to fit in things that might be more difficult in upcoming weeks and months and packing her things in preparation for them to be moved to John’s flat.

Although she was excited to become John’s wife and begin her life with him, she felt a bit melancholy about this part of her life ending. She was moving away from her family and from the place where she had lived her entire life, and she knew that she would miss them terribly. She would be able to visit them, of course, but things would never be the same. Drastic change was always difficult, even if it was for a very exciting and happy reason.

Eleanor came to visit Charlotte on Thursday, and the two of them walked the grounds of the estate, Charlotte trying to imprint into her brain the sights and smells of her favourite spots. As they settled onto a log near the stream, Eleanor spoke.

“Do you feel prepared for Monday?”

“Yes, I believe so. Mama has everything well in hand, and there’s really nothing else to be done.”

“And do you feel ready to be John’s wife?”

“Oh, yes! I know that we have only known one another for six months, but I feel as if I have known him and loved him for years. I cannot wait to make a home with him.”

They sat quietly together for a few minutes. Charlotte could tell that something was on Eleanor’s mind, but she waited until Eleanor was ready to speak.

“Are you feeling any fear about what is to come once you are married?” she finally asked, her cheeks turning pink.

Charlotte blushed as well as she thought about Eleanor’s question. It was a delicate subject, but she wanted to be honest with her dearest friend.

“Not fear, as such. I am eager to be with John, and I have enjoyed the physical affection we have already shared. But it will be very different and quite intimate, and so I feel a degree of nervousness. However, that is greatly overshadowed by my love for him and my desire to be with him in that way.”

Eleanor was quiet for another moment, then said, “I think that Mr. Addicott is going to make me an offer of marriage. He has said some things that lead me to believe a proposal is imminent.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Eleanor’s face broke out in a beaming smile as she turned to answer Charlotte.

“I could not hope for anyone better! He is a wonderful man, Charlotte.”

Charlotte pulled her into an embrace, thrilled that her friend would soon be heading into matrimonial bliss herself. She and Eleanor talked the whole way back to the house before parting, Eleanor promising she would be at the church on Monday morning, only four days away now.

**

Saturday the 3rd of May arrived and, with it, John’s family. He had met them in town and traveled to Woodridge with them to direct their carriages and to make introductions. His brother, George, had stayed at the family estate to oversee things. But his parents, William and Abigail, had traveled to Carshalton for the wedding, as well as his sisters, Elizabeth and Lavinia, who had traveled without their families for this visit.

He was most heartened to see the last person stepping out of the family carriage: his Uncle Arthur. John was concerned to see how Arthur leaned on his brother-in-law when alighting from the carriage. But he knew that his uncle would not want him to call attention to his physical state, and he stepped forward to carefully embrace him and welcome him to Carshalton.

After a brief break to stretch their legs and avail themselves of nearby facilities, they returned to the carriage for the ride to Woodridge, John riding in the carriage with them. He would be staying at the cottage that Eleanor had offered to him and Charlotte for after the wedding, the guest rooms at Woodridge being taken up by his family. It was a solution that would work beautifully. He would be closer than his flat in town, and he would not have to endure the misery of knowing that Charlotte was nearby in her nightclothes, so close to him, yet unable to be with her.

**

Charlotte was watching at the drawing room windows and saw the approaching carriages. Her family was all nearby, anticipating the imminent arrival of John and his family, and they readied themselves to welcome them. It was with some effort that Charlotte stayed in the drawing room, rather than running out of the front door to greet the carriages personally.

Mr. Pike escorted everyone in and John made the introductions. He and Charlotte were pleased to see their fathers speaking in a congenial manner nearly immediately.

John led Mrs. Plumptre over to Charlotte, and the woman took hold of Charlotte’s hands and looked into her eyes.

“My dear, you are just as lovely John described! I have heard so much about you and am so looking forward to welcoming you into our family as another daughter.”

She wrapped her arms around Charlotte and embraced her warmly as Elizabeth and Lavinia approached to be introduced.

As these greetings were happening, Charlotte could not help but notice the older man standing near the doorway. He was hanging back and watching the others interact, but he did so with great interest in his intelligent blue eyes. Charlotte could see a twinkle in them despite the pallor of his face, and she knew that this must be Uncle Arthur.

She had been delighted when John had told her that his uncle planned to come, but she had held her breath a bit until his actual arrival. John had told her of his suspicions about his uncle’s health, and she had been so afraid that Arthur would be unable to join them. She knew that would have crushed John, to have this man who was so special to him miss out on such an important day in his life.

As the others moved away from Charlotte and gave her a little space, Arthur moved forward for his introduction.

“Well, young lady. Had I known that you were so beautiful, I would have given John some competition for your hand!” he said.

Charlotte laughed as her cheeks pinked. “I am quite sure that you would have been a formidable challenger if John had not already won my heart so quickly and entirely!”

After introductions were completed, John’s family were shown to their rooms so that they could rest before dinner. John took advantage of the opportunity to take Charlotte for one last walk in the gardens. He knew that the next day would be too busy, and the day after that was the wedding. He had had little time alone with Charlotte for a week, and he was longing to hold her in his arms now.

They seated themselves on a stone bench near the hedges and spent the next few minutes exchanging sweet kisses and trying to keep their hands to appropriate places on top of one another’s clothing. When hands wandered, they did not leave them there for long, quite aware of all of the extra visitors currently at the house. Charlotte would have felt cruel getting John into the same state that she had the previous weekend, only for him to have to face his family, and hers.

They sat close together and talked about their upcoming stay at the cottage. Although it would only be a short trip, both were anticipating it with great excitement. It would be such a special time, beginning their life together as husband and wife, and it was nearly upon them.

They were still talking when Louisa found them.

“Charlotte, Mr. Plumptre, Mama asked me to tell you that you are needed.”

They stood to walk back to the house, Charlotte looping her hand through one of John’s arms as he offered the other to Louisa, who giggled as she took it.

“Miss Louisa, as I am to be your brother in a few days, perhaps you should call me John?” he said, smiling down at her.

“Alright, John.” She giggled again.

**

After dinner that evening, Arthur asked if he might have a few minutes with John before he retired, as he would be going to bed soon. Thomas offered them the use of his study and instead went with the other men directly to the drawing room.

They sat next to one another in the chairs on the opposite side of the desk from Thomas’ big desk chair. John waited quietly until his uncle was ready to speak.

“John, I know that you are aware that I have been having health concerns. You were kind enough not to press the point at Christmas, but I know that you saw enough to surmise that something is wrong.”

He was quiet for another few seconds before speaking again.

“It is my heart. I do not know how long I have, but I do not want you to feel sad on my behalf. I have lived long enough and am ready to be with Ellen and our child, whenever that should happen. However, I do not plan on shuffling off of this mortal coil in the next few days, and I should like to celebrate with you and your lovely bride and see you begin your married life with all joy.”

John’s eyes welled with unspent tears. He was overcome with grief in the moment but was determined to put on a brave face if his uncle wished for these days not to be filled with sadness and mourning before he was even gone. He took a few moments to gather himself before he spoke.

“Oh, Uncle!” he said. “I am glad that you have told me. At the risk of being overly sentimental, allow me to tell you that I have loved all of the time you have spent with me throughout the years and how you have always made me feel important. I have long admired you and can only hope to become half the man that you are.”

Arthur reached his hand over and squeezed John’s arm. “You are your own man, and a fine one at that. You do not need to become anyone else, or anything else, more than you already are. I could not be prouder than I already am.”

He paused, cleared his throat, then continued.

“I have a particular reason for sharing this with you now. There is a legal matter I need to address with you.”

“Of course, Uncle Arthur. If there is anything I can do to help, I would be happy to do so, or I can ask Mr. Tibbetts to assist you if it is beyond my expertise or if confidentiality is an issue.”

“No, John, I do not need your legal assistance. The legal matter pertains to you, specifically.”

John looked at him with a furrowed brow, unsure of his meaning.

“You are my heir. You have been a son to me, and when I am gone, you will have sole ownership of Leighton Hall.”

John could not speak for a minute. It had never occurred to him to even think about what would happen to his uncle’s estate after he had passed. He had always thought of Uncle Arthur as simply being there. If he had allowed himself to think about his absence, he would never have assumed or even imagined that the estate would become his.

“That is too much, Uncle,” he finally said.

“No, John, it is not. I have seen the love that you have for Leighton Hall, the grounds, and all who live there. I have watched you treat not only my servants but the tenants with care and respect. I have observed your keen interest in learning all that you could about how it was run, even when you had no reason to do so. And as I have told you before, you have been as a son to me. I cannot think of anyone better to take over its stewardship. 

“But I am aware that it is a great responsibility, it would require moving away from Carshalton, and it would prevent you from practising law, at least for a time. I know that you may want to give it some consideration, and you should certainly speak with your bride. But if you accept this duty and privilege, and I hope that you do, I think it would be best if you could relocate as soon as possible - within the month, if you are able.”

Of course. Of course, it would make sense that Arthur would want him to move to the estate so that he could begin working alongside him in its day-to-day operations. It would be a huge change from his current situation. He would be sorry to say goodbye to James Tibbetts and to his partnership in the law office, although perhaps they could soon work on an expansion of the business that would allow him to continue from further away. And what would Charlotte think? Would his bride want to move so far away from her family and friends and the only home she had ever known?

“I need to speak with Charlotte about this, but not until after the wedding. I do not want to give her any cause for concern or worry. We will return from Oak Cottage on Thursday. May we stop and speak with you then?”

“Please do. We are leaving for home on Friday morning.”

John knew that he would have to be careful not to allow his own disquietude to show openly or to put too much of a damper on his wedding to the woman he loved. He still had some time with his uncle, and he would not dwell on what was going to come. Instead, he would cherish the moments they had left and be thankful that he had the man in his life at all.

The two men joined the others in the drawing room, not wishing to draw any further attention. Charlotte’s anxious eyes looked to John’s when he entered. He gave her a reassuring smile and went to sit next to her, briefly squeezing her hand before continuing to hold it. It was a public show of affection, but it was largely hidden by Charlotte’s skirts, and John did not want to let go.

He knew that she would have questions later, but he would ease her into it, telling her that his uncle was having issues with his heart but waiting until a day or two after their wedding to share the full extent of the situation with her. He did not want to have his soft-hearted bride filled with grief on their wedding day.

**

The next day was the 4th of May, and the third and final bann was read in church, with John’s family members in attendance. Thankfully no one objected, although Lavinia was giving John teasing looks, to which he returned a steely glare. He was in no mood for one of Lavinia’s jokes, not about this.

Reverend Gooding announced that all members of the parish were invited to the wedding breakfast, which would take place at Woodridge the next morning at 11:00 am. He continued with the remainder of the service, which concluded with communion, as always.

After luncheon, the day felt as if it would never end, but at last, everyone was tucked into their beds and silence fell over both Woodridge and Oak Cottage. John and Charlotte each feared that they would not be able to sleep a wink, but as the clock neared midnight, slumber at last overtook them both.

**

Charlotte woke the next morning with a feeling of excitement humming underneath her skin. She had thought that she would be nervous on her wedding day, but she felt surprisingly calm.

She had a small meal so that she would not be hungry before the wedding breakfast took place after the ceremony. Then she sat quietly as Jane styled her hair into a beautiful updo, the maid twisting her curls and pinning them into place before she tucked white flowers into the locks. Once her hair was done, Jane helped her into her new blue dress, fastening the delicate, ornate buttons that went up the back of it.

When she was ready, she went downstairs to meet her family. John’s family had gone ahead to the church in their carriage so that they could meet John and be with him as he waited.

“Oh, Charlotte! My darling girl, you look so beautiful!” exclaimed Margaret, her eyes moist with sentiment. She hugged her daughter, then stepped back to make room for her husband.

“John is fortunate to have you, but I think that you are blessed to have him as well,” her father told her in a low voice, embracing her.

Charlotte smiled through the tears that were threatening to fall, wiping discreetly at her eyes before she turned to her approaching brother.

“I’m going to miss you, sister,” said Edmund, and Charlotte pulled him into her arms for a hug, whether he wanted one or not. Edmund was often so quiet, but she had always known his steady support was there, and she would feel his absence keenly.

Louisa and Anne approached and shyly held out a bundle of flowers that they had cut in the gardens, then tied together with a few of their treasured hair ribbons. Charlotte was touched by their sweet gesture and pulled them into one last hug before they all put on their wraps and went outside to get into the carriage.

**

John’s breath was stolen from him when he saw Charlotte for the first time on their wedding day. He had been taken by her from the start, and knowing her as he now did only enhanced her allure, so that she became more beautiful to him by the day. He knew that he would never forget the sight of her walking down the aisle towards him, ready to become his bride.

Charlotte had been similarly struck by seeing John at the front of the church, looking at her with such love in his eyes. A year before, she could not have imagined that this was where she would be, marrying a man whom she loved deeply and who treasured her and fought for her. She longed to be at his side, wanting to let go of her father’s arm and run to John, but she kept her pace steady and reached him with her dignity still intact.

The ceremony was mostly a blur to the both of them, but Charlotte knew that she would always remember John speaking the words as he slipped the ring onto her finger:

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Her cheeks heated at the mention of John worshipping her with his body. She kept her eyes cast modestly downward as she contemplated that happening in a few short hours. Before the day was over, she would be fully John’s wife, body and soul. Her stomach fluttered at the thrilling thought, and she felt a tightening at the place between her legs that was longing to welcome him.

When the ceremony was finished and the couple had signed the registry, Charlotte having been given her copy as proof of her married status, the two of them exited the church to the hearty cheers of the attendees and the throwing of rice and seeds. John led Charlotte to the carriage that Thomas had loaned them for the occasion. It was a smaller enclosed carriage that the two of them fit into quite cosily for the ride to Woodridge.

Now that Charlotte was his wife, John had a difficult time keeping his hands off of her during the drive. His task was not made any easier by his bride leaning her soft body into him, running her hand over his chest as she kissed the shell of his ear. He bit his lower lip to prevent the sound of his groans from reaching their driver. He did not want the man to think that anything untoward was happening beneath him, whether it was or was not.

When he could no longer withstand Charlotte’s teasing touches and kisses, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, running his own hands over her body wherever he could reach, no longer restraining himself as he had been. He would not ravish her in a carriage on the way to their wedding breakfast, but that did not mean that they could not find some pleasure in one another on the journey.

“We must be very quiet, sweet girl,” he said to her, sliding his fingers underneath the fabric of her bodice and stroking the silky smooth skin he found there, struggling not to moan at finally touching her delectable breasts for the first time. Had they a longer drive ahead of them, John would have been tempted to unbutton her dress and take even greater delight in them, using his mouth as well as his hands, but he knew that they would be arriving soon and that this must suffice for now. As it was, hearing Charlotte’s whimpers as he caressed her, having her hands on his own body, and feeling the peaks of her breasts responding so well to the touch of his fingertips was enough to make him painfully hard, but he could not seem to stop himself until the motion of the carriage and sounds from outside let him know that they were nearing Woodridge.

He quickly withdrew his hand, pulling up her bodice and smoothing down the fabric of her dress as she ran her fingers through his hair. They could not do anything about their swollen lips and flushed cheeks, but this would have to do for now. They had a wedding breakfast to attend and guests to greet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XXOO to Caffiend, my fabulous beta reader!


	13. An Amorous Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte finally consummate their relationship.

John and Charlotte managed to stay at their wedding breakfast for two full hours before their need to be alone with one another became too great to ignore. Charlotte had forced herself to eat, despite the roiling of her excited stomach. Mrs. Carter had been hard at work on the preparations for several days, and Charlotte did not wish to hurt her feelings by picking at the food she had so lovingly prepared. 

She had also made the newlyweds a delicious cake with almond filling and a sweet icing, decorated with sugared grapes and flowers. Once the cake had been cut and the couple had shared it with their guests, they felt it was acceptable to take their leave.

Their drive to Oak Cottage was filled with languorous kisses and tender touches, the two of them by tacit agreement keeping things gentler for the short ride. They stepped out of the carriage and walked towards the front door. When they reached the threshold of the cottage, John lifted Charlotte and carried her over it as she laughed in delight. 

The driver carried in Charlotte’s valise and bid them goodbye until Thursday afternoon. She had only had Jane pack what she would need for the week, as her family had arranged for the rest of her things to be moved into John’s flat during their time away.

Mary, one of the Eastons’ maids, was there to greet them and let them know what foods had been prepared and placed in the kitchen and pantry for their use. John had been eating with his family at Woodridge, so the food had been brought in that morning while the wedding took place.

“Are you in need of anything else, Mrs. Plumptre?”

Charlotte felt a tingle up her spine when she heard her new name, just as she did when guests at their wedding breakfast had called her by that title. She felt John’s hand squeeze her waist and knew that he was feeling the same.

“No, thank you, Mary. In fact, I think we shall be fine without assistance for the remainder of our stay.”

“Very good, ma’am,” said Mary, a faint blush and subtly knowing expression on her face. “Shall I return on Thursday morning to arrange your hair for you?”

“That would be lovely, Mary, thank you.”

Mary curtsied and returned to the Eastons’ home. And with that, John and Charlotte were alone, completely alone with no chance of being interrupted for days, for the first time since they had met.

Charlotte felt her heart begin to pound. When they had been physically intimate previously, they had maintained in the back of their minds an awareness of their situation that stopped them from taking their actions to their natural conclusion. 

Now there was nothing to stop them, and Charlotte felt a current of anxiety creeping in. She loved John. She wanted to give herself to him physically. She enjoyed all that they had already done together. Why was this nervousness happening?

John could sense the change in her after Mary had left. He thought that Charlotte was likely feeling overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. She might have been be tired. Perhaps there was a fear of the unknown. As much as he desired Charlotte, he would not push her to do anything before she was ready.

“Are you hungry, love? Did you get enough to eat earlier?” he asked gently.

“Thank you, I am not hungry.”

“Would you like to take a walk outside?”

Charlotte shook her head as John moved in front of her, raising her eyes to meet his. She saw such love and understanding there that she immediately felt calmer. 

“Shall I read to you, sweet girl?” he asked. He had brought a book of poetry with him to read in the evening before falling asleep.

“I would like that,” she answered with a shy smile.

John led her to the sitting area in the small drawing room of the cottage and sat down on the chaise longue, back against the side rest and legs out in front of him and spread apart enough for Charlotte to fit between them. He drew her down and brought her against himself, her back to his chest. He paged through the book then set it down again.

“I do not need the book for this one.

_“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_  
_Thou art more lovely and more temperate”_

John was reciting sonnet 18 to her, the one that he had performed after dinner at Woodridge all those months ago, right after they had met. It was even more thrilling now, knowing that his words were intended just for her and that he did not need to pretend otherwise.

He went on to recite several other sonnets from memory, the rich timbre of his voice causing shivers up and down her spine as his fingers began to lightly stroke the skin of her neck, upper back, and the exposed part of her shoulders. She loved his voice on its own, especially when it was deepened by his desire, as it was now. But when he combined it with his wonderful hands moving across her skin, it was a deadly combination.

“You know, darling, I never realised that the Book of Common Prayer could be so arousing,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked, thrown for a moment by the seeming change of subject.

“All that talk of marriage not being taken wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, and about a remedy against sin and fornication, and for the procreation of children...it was quite distracting when we were in the church. I kept thinking about the carnal lusts that you inspire within me, and about how much I would enjoy the procreation of children with you.”

John’s arms were wrapped around Charlotte, and his hands stroked her abdomen as he spoke, then moved up lightly over her breasts, tracing along her neckline before skimming up her neck. His fingers buried themselves in her hair and began rubbing circles into her scalp as she dropped her head forward.

Charlotte was becoming both more relaxed and more aroused as John’s fingers continued their work. Then he dipped his head down and, gently tipping her head to the side, he began kissing along the tender skin of her neck. He heard her breathing become shallower and more rapid as he continued with his hands and mouth, worshipping her, just as he had vowed to do a few hours before.

Then Charlotte turned her face towards his and he lifted his head, capturing her waiting lips with his own. He kept the kisses soft and undemanding, delaying anything further until her lips parted, inviting in his tongue. Only then did he increase the pressure and urgency of his kisses as he felt her own responses growing in intensity. She turned her body further into his and pressed up against him as they continued to kiss.

He was taken by surprise when she pulled away, until she got up from the settee and held out her hand.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, my love.”

Charlotte’s hair was already coming loose from its carefully pinned curls, with tendrils down around her face and neck. Her cheeks were pink, lips were full, and eyes were darkened with desire.

He wanted her more at that moment than he ever had before, but as much as he longed to become one with her in body, he was determined that he would take his time with her. He wanted both to savour this first experience for the both of them and to make sure that it was as pleasurable for Charlotte as possible. He knew that a woman needed more preparation than a man, and he would not take his satisfaction while neglecting hers. He wanted Charlotte to enjoy this as much as he was sure that he would.

When they reached the bedroom, John went to the fireplace and lit the fire that had already been thoughtfully set for them by Mary. He spent a minute making sure that it had caught properly, then returned to the side of his bride, who was standing by the bed. He sat down on the bed to remove his boots and stockings, then helped Charlotte out of her shoes before standing up again, turning down the bedcovers before returning his attention to his wife.

John lifted his hand to the side of her neck, stroking the skin tenderly with this thumb as he leaned down to softly kiss Charlotte’s lips. Reaching his other hand up to her hair, he began to pull out the pins as he felt them. When he had pulled out all of the pins he could without looking, he moved around behind her to check for any that were remaining, removing them and gently taking out the flowers that were still there as well. 

He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, unwinding her curls with care until they lay smoothly on her back. He swept her hair to one side and over her shoulder, dipping his head to kiss her neck and shoulders as he began to undo the small buttons down her back, then kneeling as he reached the ones near her waist.

Charlotte could feel the heat of his breath through her corset and chemise as John lowered her dress to the ground so that she could step out of it. Her breath quickened as she stood before him in her undergarments, the intimacy of the moment impossible to ignore. John stood and carefully lay her gown over the chair in the corner of the bedroom, then returned to stand before her.

She struggled not to allow her hands to fidget at her sides, unsure what she should be doing.

“Would you like to help me with my coat, wife?” he asked, watching as his words brought a pleased flush to her face.

“I would be delighted, husband,” she answered, shyly smiling but feeling more confident now that she had a task to carry out.

Her nimble, slender fingers made quick work of the buttons, her hands sliding up to push the coat from his shoulders when she was done. She rapidly moved on to his cravat with a mischievous smile, tugging at it and pulling it from around his neck, before beginning to unbutton his waistcoat next.

“Is this a race, darling girl? I had no idea,” he teased her, his hands reaching around behind her to undo the strings of her petticoat, letting it drop to the floor when he had untied it.

His hands were nearly shaking when he reached for the laces on the back of her corset. So few layers separated them now, and soon it would be one less. Charlotte’s fingers undid the buttons at the throat of his linen shirt, and when it gaped open, she leaned in and began pressing kisses to the skin of his chest.

John’s breath hitched and he stroked through Charlotte’s hair for a moment before returning his hands to the task of unlacing his bride from her confinement. When he had loosened the garment enough, he slid it down Charlotte’s body, leaving her in only her thin chemise.

She looked up at him as it fell, and he could see that a bit of the nervousness had returned. He pulled her close to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, wanting to make her feel protected and cherished. He stroked his hands over her back and along her neck, seeking only to make her feel good. He could sense her beginning to relax as he did so, becoming more pliable in his arms again.

Soon Charlotte was ready for more, and she began to tug at John’s shirt, pulling it free from his breeches and pushing the fabric up as high as she could as John raised his arms, helping her by bending so that she could pull it off of him the rest of the way. Her pleased gasp at her first glimpse of his lean muscled torso filled him with pride and lust. He knew that his bride found him desirable, and it made him feel powerful and virile.

She stroked her fingers across his chest and stomach with a light touch that only served to increase his hunger for her. With great effort, he held still while she explored his body, moving around to stroke her hands over the muscles and skin of his back as well.

Charlotte was greatly enjoying finally being able to touch the body that she had only seen through his damp, clinging shirt in the stables once before. He was more beautiful than she had even imagined, and she could not believe that he belonged to her. Touching him made her eager to continue, and when he turned her and then pulled her to him, her back to his front, she went gladly.

John pressed himself up against her and began to nuzzle at her neck through her hair, whispering compliments and praise as his hand moved with the lightest of touches over her breasts and up to the buttons at the front of her chemise.

Her chest began to heave as he unbuttoned more and more of the bodice, skin beginning to show where the fabric was parting. She was desperate to feel his hands on her breasts again, having had a small taste of the sensation in the carriage previously. She did not have to wait long until John was sliding one hand underneath the fabric and over one of her breasts, stroking it and teasing at the nipple before his second hand came up to mirror the motion on the other side.

When she could take no more of his teasing, Charlotte slid the fabric off of her shoulders and down her body to stand before her husband, naked for the first time. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he watched her actions and beheld her lovely form. She mustered her courage and turned to face him, watching his eyes darken with increased desire as he raked his eyes over her lush curves.

“Oh, my sweet girl, you are exquisite! ‘With my body, I thee worship,’ indeed! And I plan to do as much worshiping as you will allow,” he proclaimed, to Charlotte’s blushing delight.

He set upon her, running his hands over the curves that his eyes had just been exploring as his mouth plundered hers. When Charlotte’s fingers moved to the waistband of his breeches, he became impossibly harder, so aroused by her simple action that showed her want of him.

She unbuttoned the buttons there and, as the fabric was loosened and folded down, his erection pushed forth unencumbered. Charlotte’s eyes were huge and her mouth opened in a soft “oh!” as she looked at his manhood, hard and thick with his arousal. This was certainly different than the illustrations she had seen, but in a way that excited and pleased her. 

“May I touch you?” she whispered, as if afraid to ask the question.

John took hold of her hand and wrapped it around his length, guiding her in stroking it in a way that was pleasurable to him. She did so, then loosened her hand and touched him gently with her fingertips, feeling the silkiness of the skin over the hot hardness underneath and running her fingers over the blunt head at the end, sliding one finger over the slit she found there, rubbing the beads of moisture with her fingertip. She wrapped her hand around him again and began to stroke him some more. 

Charlotte seemed fascinated by her exploration, and John was so lost in his wonder of his wife’s enthusiasm and lack of inhibitions that he did not realise his body was becoming overly stimulated when he was not yet inside her.

“Charlotte, wait--!” he began to say, but he was too late. He watched in embarrassment as his seed spilled onto her hand.

He was sure that she would be horrified, but instead she appeared mesmerised by what she had seen, and he even thought he saw a hint of pride that she had been the one to bring him to such a state. 

Charlotte did not know about the specifics of the act they had just shared, but she knew enough to be aware that she had brought John to the height of his arousal, past the point of any control, and she felt an odd sense of power in having done that to him. She did not know what he would think of her brazen actions and was reluctant to meet his eyes until she heard him begin to speak.

“Charlotte, I am so sorry. I completely lost control. I can only hope that you do not feel debased by my response to you.”

“No, John, you have nothing to be sorry about!” she said, wanting only to reassure her husband. “You did nothing to make me feel disrespected or demeaned in any way. I was afraid that you would think me shameless, a wanton woman, for I greatly enjoyed that.”

She bit her lower lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

He gently ran his fingers up and down her arms, soothing her with his actions along with the words that he spoke. His voice was husky with emotion and fresh desire.

“I could never think that of you, sweet girl. I am a fortunate man to have a wife who enjoys touching me in such a way. I hope that you take as much pleasure in the other things that we will do together. But first…”

He pushed his breeches down the rest of the way, stepping out of them. Walking unclothed and unashamed, he went to the washbasin across the room and brought the bowl and cloths back to where Charlotte was standing. He lovingly cleaned her hand, then used a fresh cloth to clean himself, getting rid of the cloths and putting the bowl back before returning to her and taking her into his arms.

“I am afraid that I will need some time to recover before we…” he trailed off, unsure how to voice what he meant.

“Oh!” said Charlotte, understanding dawning. “Oh, I see.” Much of her self-consciousness had evaporated after what they had already shared, but now that they were standing together, bare to one another's gaze but unable to proceed, some of the awkwardness was threatening to return. 

"However," he said, voice lowering deliciously in a way that sent chills down Charlotte's spine, "there are other things we can do together until then."

Charlotte squealed when he suddenly bent and lifted her, moving to the bed and laying her down gently. His heated gaze felt like a caress as it moved over her from head to toe. 

"Charlotte, you are the most exquisite creature I have ever seen," he said in his cultured voice that had become rougher with passion.

Her urge to cover herself diminished with his obvious appreciation of her physical appeal, but she longed to touch him again. She reached her arms out to him and he lay down next to her, stretching his lean, muscled body out against her side, one leg possessively over her lower half. 

Charlotte thought that the feel of John's naked body against hers was glorious. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked across his back, feeling his muscles twitch as he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. One of John's hands came up to cup and caress her breast, and she squirmed with pleasure under his touch. 

His kisses became more demanding as his hands moved over her body to the accompaniment of her soft sighs, then he pulled his mouth away and moved it to her neck, tracing a path down to her chest. Both were recalling their carriage ride in the woods and how much they had enjoyed it. This time, John continued placing open-mouthed kisses down the soft swell of her breasts.

He stopped when he reached the skin between her breasts, unsure what Charlotte would think if he proceeded. He longed to use his mouth on them, but he hesitated. Would she think it immoral and him a deviant? He turned his mouth enough to press a soft kiss to the inside of one breast. Her breath hitched and she jumped just a bit, but she did not object. He began leaving more sweet kisses along the velvety skin, edging closer and closer to the rosy tip that was tempting him.

When he was a mere inch away from his desired destination, he pulled away just a bit and looked up at Charlotte. She was transfixed. Her pupils were blown and her pink lips, plump from his kisses, were parted as she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. Then she angled her body just enough to bring her nipple to his lips. He took it into his mouth and gave a gentle suck, and she cried out, her hands flying up to grasp his head and hold it to her breast.

He pressed her back and continued suckling her as he gently stroked up along her opposite side until his hand reached her other breast, which received the attention of his long, talented fingers. Her cries and sighs were addictive, and he switched his attentions after a minute, wanting to give each one of her luscious globes his devoted consideration.

He skimmed one hand down her side as Charlotte’s hands returned to touching him, her fingernails lightly scraping along his neck, shoulders, and back as he laved his tongue over her hardened nipples and sucked gently on the skin around them. He traced his fingers over her hip and across her stomach, then slowly began edging them toward her warm, wet center.

He had dreamed of this moment, when he would feel this evidence of Charlotte’s arousal for the first time. Although a primal part of him longed to bury himself within her with his rapidly hardening member, he knew that bringing her to her peak and past it would make Charlotte’s body much more receptive to him upon his entry. He also knew that taking his time would make this experience far more pleasurable and comfortable for Charlotte. He was aware of the physical barrier that was present in her body, and he wanted to do what he could to ease her discomfort at the moment of its penetration.

He heard her gasp when his fingers first stroked through her slippery folds, her thighs closing against his hand. He pulled his mouth away from her breast to look at her and gauge her reaction.

“Is that uncomfortable? Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No, it’s...you didn’t hurt me. It’s not uncomfortable, just...strange.” She was silent for a few seconds. 

John could see her thinking about what to say, as if trying to decide whether or not to say more.

Charlotte was remembering the admonition to be honest with her husband about what she liked and did not like. She supposed she should begin now, as it would likely not get any easier if she did not.

“But I really like it,” she said in a hushed voice.

With that confirmation from Charlotte, John resumed his attentions, sliding his fingers along the slickened place between her legs as he moved his mouth back to hers, wanting to explore her mouth as his hand explored her center. Charlotte moaned into his mouth as he did so. When his fingers slid up to the bud at the junction of her thighs and stroked it, she cried out and her back arched off of the bed, her arms grasping him tightly.

She looked at John in wonder.

“Have you never touched yourself there before?” he asked with a little self-satisfied smile. He could not believe that Charlotte was so responsive and that he was making her feel so good.

“No,” she breathed out.

“Is it alright if I touch you there some more?” he asked.

“Yes, please!”

John laughed lightly at her enthusiastic response, then redoubled his efforts between her legs as Charlotte grabbed his head, pulling him towards her to kiss him ardently. He alternated circling and stroking along the little hard bud with gliding his fingers between her folds. When she began pressing her hips into his hand, seeking more pressure, he slipped his hand down and slid a finger into her hot, wet channel, groaning as he felt the slick warmth clenching around him.

Charlotte’s moans increased as he began to slowly move his finger in and out of her, his tongue in her mouth mirroring the action. When she was taking his finger easily, he added a second and increased his pace slightly. He also began to move his fingers apart just a little, seeking to stretch her passage before he would be entering her. He used his thumb to stroke against the bud as his fingers continued to move in and out.

Charlotte was nearly overcome by the sensations in her body from John’s attentions. She had no idea that the act of lovemaking could be so pleasurable, nor that it could be this unhurried and intoxicating. There was a strange sensation building in her body. There was pressure between her legs like she had felt previously, but there was also a coiled tension in her limbs, in her shoulders, her stomach, her bottom - all over.

She grasped at John’s arms, her head whipping back and forth as her breathing became rougher and more rapid.

“John--I need--I need…” she said, unable to put words to what she was feeling and not knowing exactly what she needed.

“I know, sweet girl. It’s alright. Feel what I’m doing to you and let your body enjoy it. Let yourself go,” he whispered in her ear.

When Charlotte nearly thought she could take no more, she felt a delicious tingle begin between her legs. Then it became a hard throbbing in her center as she clenched around John’s fingers, the tingle spreading to her bottom, her legs, up to her shoulders and scalp. Her body felt overwhelmed, and she shook with the sensations as John continued to gently stroke her and press kisses to her neck and chest.

As her body began to calm and her awareness returned to her, she moved a hand down to pull John’s fingers away from her sensitive core.

“That was...amazing!” she said, watching as John beamed, his chest puffing up like a banty rooster.

“I am so glad that you enjoyed it, wife. It was my absolute joy to bring you such pleasure,” he answered, softly kissing her.

Charlotte could feel John’s stiff length against her leg, and she found arousal already beginning to build within her again.

“John...please. I need you. I want you to make me your wife in every way.”

John’s eyes flashed as he moved over her, settling himself between her thighs as she spread her legs open for him.

“I have endeavoured to make you as ready as possible, but you may still experience some discomfort, and possibly some pain during our first coupling.”

Charlotte nodded. “I know. I am ready.”

John could see the tension in her face as she readied herself for his entry. He hated to bring her any pain but knew that some might be unavoidable this first time. He took himself in hand, lined himself up with her entrance, and finally began to sink his hard length into his bride. He went so slowly, an inch at a time, not wanting to rush things and hurt Charlotte unnecessarily.

His arms were trembling with the effort of restraining himself and holding himself up above her, not wanting to put too much weight on her. He could tell that Charlotte was still feeling tense by the expression on her face, even though her gasps were also telling him that she was enjoying the sensation of being stretched by him so completely. He reached the point where he could feel the tighter opening that he would need to breach.

He leaned down to speak in a low voice, right in her ear. “You are doing so well, sweet girl. So well. Try to relax for me, let your body open up and allow me in,” he began.

Charlotte felt a rush of damp arousal flood her center at his words as John continued to speak, praising and encouraging her, his hips gently pressing forward to push himself into her further. He had used such endearments with her before. But there was something about hearing them now, spoken low and with the growl of arousal in John’s voice, during a moment of such intimacy, that was wildly intoxicating.

John could feel her opening up inside, and he pushed a little more, pressing through the tightest spot as she gave a sharp inhale. With a gentle thrust, he was fully seated within her.

“That's my sweet girl. Are you hurting?” he asked.

“No,” she said, looking at him in wonder. “It is a little uncomfortable, but you did not cause me pain. I feel so full. It is unlike anything I could have imagined."

John leaned down and kissed his beloved wife tenderly. 

“Tell me when you are ready for me to move,” he said softly, nearly overcome by the feel of her tight, warm channel gripping his length and her soft curves pressed against him.

John waited for her body to become more accustomed to him, kissing her slowly and sensuously as he did so. When Charlotte began to move her hips underneath him, he stopped kissing her long enough to ask, “Are you ready?”

She nodded shyly at him, and he withdrew a few inches with deliberate slowness, then pushed back in, watching her for any sign of displeasure or pain. She smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him. As he continued the steady movements, Charlotte’s hands roamed over his back, then slid down over the firm curves of his backside, feeling the muscles there tighten with his movements and her touch. She had appreciated its nicely rounded shape in his breeches and was reveling in feeling it beneath her hands.

She had become more used to the feeling of him within her now, and the discomfort had receded, to be replaced by a building sense of pleasure and need. She wanted more. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his thighs, trying to pull him even closer and more firmly against her.

"Harder?" John asked from between his clenched teeth. 

"Please," she begged. 

The tempo of John's thrusts increased as he began to push in with more and more power, pistoning in and out of her as they both groaned with the heightened friction. His hands had moved underneath her and he was gripping her shoulders from behind, holding her to himself as he continued to drive himself into her body. 

Charlotte was savouring the feeling of him within her and the forcefulness of his movements and his sounds. It felt primal and arousing, and she found this side of John, completely unleashed from restrictions, to be thrilling. 

His sweat-slickened skin was sliding against hers with every movement. She could feel the delicious pressure building between her legs, but it was not as intense as when John had used his fingers on her. Nonetheless, she relished the sensation. 

She felt John's movements become more erratic, and his grip on her shoulders tightened. 

"Oh, sweet girl-I can't-I'm going to--"

He stopped speaking as he grunted, his thrusts coming unevenly now. She felt him swell and throb within her, and she tightened herself around him, wanting to feel it even more. She felt a rush of warmth within as he found his release inside her body. 

John's movements slowed and then stopped, his breath coming in harsh gasps for a few moments as he sought to recover from spilling within her. He was disappointed that he had not been able to hold out longer, for Charlotte's sake. He knew that she had not come before he had.

"Darling girl, I am sorry." 

"For what?" she asked, mystified. 

"I was unable to bring you your own pleasure before I attained mine."

Charlotte could see the regret in his expression. She longed to soothe her husband. She stroked her fingers tenderly over his face. 

"You had already done that, and it was extraordinary! It is alright that it did not happen now. It simply means that we will need to practise more until it does," she teased with a flirty smile. 

He searched her face and saw her sincerity, as well as the satisfied look she bore. His anxiety began to ease as she stroked the skin at the back of his neck, then pulled him down to kiss him with tender affection.

After several minutes, he moved off of her and she whimpered at the loss of the warmth and weight of him. 

"I will return to your side, my love, but there is something I first must do." 

Returning to the washstand in the room, he dampened a few cloths. He cleaned himself off with one, then brought one over to Charlotte. She reached for it, but he held it up and shook his head. She found herself blushing as he gently washed her body, cleaning the evidence of their consummation. In a way, it felt even more intimate than what they had just done. 

He finished with the cloths and disposed of them, then came back to the bed. He stretched himself out alongside Charlotte again, running his fingers up and down her enticing body as she shivered under his touch. He was nearly tempted to immediately ravish her a second time, but he grinned when she stifled a yawn, looking like a sleepy child. Reaching down, he pulled up the covers over the both of them, then he drew Charlotte towards himself. She curled around his body with another yawn before nuzzling his chest and snuggling up against him, twining her legs with his, enjoying his warmth and the hard planes of his body under hers. 

John could hear her hum in contentment just before her breathing evened out and deepened a little. He lay there for several minutes, listening to the sounds of his tantalising wife and wondering how he had ever been so fortunate, before his own tiredness overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to Caffiend, who is my fabulous beta reader!


	14. An Increase in Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and John enjoy one another some more. And some more after that.

Charlotte yawned and stretched, not quite ready to open her eyes yet after her nap. She reached her arm out for her husband but found his side of the bed empty, the sheets cool to her touch. Opening her eyes, she looked around the bedroom but did not see him. She did, however, notice that the fire had been stoked to keep the room feeling cosy, and she could hear the sounds of someone moving on the stairs.

She sat up, propped the pillows behind herself, and tucked the sheet in around her chest as John walked through the bedroom door, a sweet smile on his face at seeing his wife awake and sitting up in the bed they had shared. He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, leaning in to give her a kiss.

“Did you sleep well, my love?” he asked.

“I did! I did not realise earlier how tired I was, and after our...activities this afternoon, I was exhausted and so relaxed that I could not help myself. I hope that you were not too disappointed that I went to sleep in the middle of our wedding day.”

“Not at all, darling. I slept, too, and only woke about half an hour ago. I thought you might be hungry. You did not eat much at the wedding breakfast.”

“I tried, but I was too excited to be alone with you to be able to eat very much.”

“Do you think you could eat something now?”

Charlotte’s stomach gave a well-timed growl as she opened her mouth to answer. She blushed and giggled as John laughed.

“I think that’s a yes, sweet Charlotte. I have laid out on the kitchen table some of the food that was left for us. I thought we would be more comfortable there than in the dining room.”

He got up and walked to her valise, pulling out her dressing gown before walking over to the bed with it. He stood near the bed and turned his head to the side, closing his eyes to give her privacy as he held out her open gown so that she could slip her arms into it while preserving her modesty.

Charlotte was touched by his chivalry, and it gave her the bravery to do something she might not have dared to do previously. She slipped out from under the sheet that was covering her and slid her arms into the sleeves of her dressing gown, but left it open. Circling around to where John’s head was facing, she placed her hands against his cheeks, spoke his name softly, and waited for him to open his eyes.

When he did, his gaze lowered without hesitation to her still-open dressing gown, his eyes darkening as he let them linger over her naked form. Standing on her tiptoes, Charlotte placed a soft kiss on his lips as his gaze returned to hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Darling, if you do not soon cover that delicious body of yours, it is going to be quite some time before we get around to dinner. And while I would not complain about that, your stomach might.”

He took hold of Charlotte’s chin and pressed a kiss to her lips, then his fingertips lightly trailed down her neck and the skin between her breasts before his hands reached for the open sides of her dressing gown. He drew the gown across her body, his fingers caressing her skin as he did. He gently tied a bow at her waist as she slid her feet into her nearby slippers, then he took her hand and led her down the stairs.

**

The two of them had a simple but satisfying meal, sharing many soft touches as they ate. The newness of being together in such an intimate way still caused each to feel some shyness, but they were learning to be more comfortable with one another in this state.

Charlotte was surprised at how easy it had been to lay naked before John, and to engage in such carnal behaviours with him. John had gone to such efforts to make her feel comfortable and to relax her, and she was sure that his patience had made quite a difference in how she had responded to him. He had given her time and had eased her into lovemaking. That, combined with the overpowering desire she already had for him, had made their consummation more than she could have dreamed. She again felt so fortunate to be the wife of a man who loved her so well and so passionately.

As they finished eating, John spoke.

“I thought you might enjoy having a bath, my love.”

“A bath would be marvelous!” she said.

He led her to a small room just on the other side of the wall from the kitchen. The stove was against the shared wall, making the room feel snug and warm.

“Wait right here,” said John, stepping back into the kitchen to grab the kettle from the stove. He returned and poured the boiling water into the lukewarm water already in the tub, then stirred it around so that the water would feel pleasantly warm throughout.

Charlotte was struck by John’s thoughtfulness in not only taking care that their bedroom was warm by the time she woke and that there was food ready to eat, but that he had thought ahead to preparing things for a bath as well. She removed her dressing gown and laid it over a stand in the corner of the room, then stepped into the tub.

Turning to John, she asked, “Will you share the bath with me, husband?”

“I would be delighted, my lovely wife.”

He stepped into the tub next to her and held her close for a moment, running his hands across the silky skin of her back. Then he turned her around and eased himself down into the tub, sitting at one end and drawing Charlotte down to sit in his lap, her back against his chest, his muscular thighs cradling her from underneath.

“Mmm, this is nice,” she said, relaxing back into him as he put his arms around her waist and stroked the soft skin of her stomach.

“I must say that this is already the most enjoyable bath I have ever had,” said John, nuzzling Charlotte’s ear and neck as he planted kisses along the same path. Charlotte had pinned up her hair on top of her head, and he was enjoying the soft expanse of skin that exposed.

“I would have to agree,” said Charlotte as she tilted her head to the opposite side, immersing herself in the sensations that John was creating in her.

Her soft sighs at the touch of his mouth to her skin led to John’s hands wandering, one sliding up to caress her breasts and gently roll her nipples, the other reaching down between her thighs to caress her soft folds, already slick with her desire. Charlotte squirmed on John’s lap as he continued to fondle her delectable body, and he felt himself quickly growing hard beneath the movement of her sweet, lush bottom.

He tried to ignore his erection, intent on pleasuring Charlotte and then washing her so that she would feel clean and relaxed before bedtime. Instead, his delightfully surprising wife wriggled until she worked a hand down underneath herself and took hold of his length.

John hissed as she grasped him and began to stroke, more sure of her actions than she had been in the bedroom earlier that day. He was about to stop Charlotte when she spoke.

“Please, John. I want to feel you again. Inside me.”

He almost had his release just from her wildly arousing words, but he employed the self-control that had eluded him earlier and refrained. When he was confident that he would be able to hold out for a while longer, he placed his hands underneath her thighs and lifted her so that she was positioned high enough to take him in.

“You’ll have to guide me, sweet girl,” he said in a rough voice that was thick with lust.

Charlotte had released him when he lifted her, but she now moved her hand back down to take hold of him and place the tip of his length at her opening.

“Good girl. I will lower you, but you may need to move a bit to get me inside you all the way,” he told her, self-consciousness causing him to flush but desire winning out over any feelings of embarrassment. “Put your legs on the outside of mine, and use them to help position yourself.”

Charlotte followed his directions and he felt her begin to wiggle as he penetrated her, his wife leaning forward and moving her body to ease his passage into her. She felt so warm as her center took him in, and so tight as her body enveloped his. Soon her bottom was resting against his lower abdomen and he was fully inside her. She leaned back against him and moaned as John brought his hands up to cup her breasts, stroking her nipples.

“Use your legs to lift up and lower yourself back down on me, whenever you are ready,” he whispered in Charlotte’s ear. 

Charlotte leaned forward a little and took hold of the sides of the tub. She pushed up just a bit, raising her body a few inches, then sank back down all the way onto John as they both groaned. She repeated the action until she developed a rhythm and began lifting herself up higher.

John started pushing upward as she lowered herself down, meeting her body with thrusts of his own. Soon his desire to feel her body pressed to his took over and he pulled Charlotte back to his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist as his thrusts became more vigorous. The fingers of his other hand slid down between her legs and began to circle and rub at the little bud at the top of her thighs.

Charlotte began a needy whimpering at this additional stimulation and tried to push herself up against John’s fingers, but his arm held her firmly. He answered her unspoken plea by circling and pressing against her faster and more firmly, his mouth pressing hot open kisses on the skin of her neck and jaw and behind her ear.

John could feel her squirm as the pressure built between her thighs. He knew she had to be close, and his focus on her had enabled him to keep his own pleasure at bay, but he knew that he did not have much time left. He began to speak about all the ways that he wanted to debauch her in the future, unsure if Charlotte would enjoy it or if it would be too much, but sonnets seemed too pretty for this moment.

His licentious speech seemed to inflame her and her cries became unrestrained and higher-pitched as her breathing became more laboured. Her release was so near. John kept up the stream of lasciviousness as he gave her hard little bud a gentle pinch, and he heard Charlotte’s gasp just before her body convulsed on top of his, grasping his length with such tightness that he wondered for a brief moment if they might forever remain joined.

The squeezing of his shaft and the knowledge that he had been able to bring Charlotte to such satisfaction was enough to pull John over the edge, and he spilled within her body as she continued to squeeze him. Charlotte fell back limp against him as he was finishing, breathing hard.

He had the presence of mind to stroke his hands over her body gently and place light kisses wherever his mouth could reach. Her breathing regulated and she began to slide her hands over his legs and arms with gentle contentment.

As the water began to cool, John reached for a cloth and the soft soap and washed both of them, bathing Charlotte’s most intimate places with tender care. When he finished washing, he pulled Charlotte up to standing and reached for the bucket of warm water he had set to the side after filling it earlier. He rinsed them both, then grabbed a towel to quickly dry himself before taking more time to dry off Charlotte’s supple, warm body. He would take care of the bathwater in the morning.

They wrapped themselves up in their dressing gowns, then Charlotte pressed in close to John and kissed him, a dreamy smile on her face. She took John’s hand and led him back upstairs to the bedroom. Although it was not very late, the two of them were exhausted from the events of the day and their lovemaking, and they readied themselves for bed.

As Charlotte reached for her nightgown, John stopped her with his words.

“Will you leave it off? Just while we are here?” he asked shyly.

A mischievous smile appeared on Charlotte’s face at his question. She pulled her hand back and untied her dressing gown, laying it over the chair, then slipped between the covers with John.

“Anything for you, my husband,” she answered him.

John had banked the fire to keep it from going out overnight, but the room was already beginning to cool as the sun had gone down earlier. Charlotte curled up against John’s side, her arm across his chest and one leg between his. His arm was wrapped around his wife’s back, with the hand of his other arm stroking through the hair she had let down.

Charlotte knew that she should brush out and braid her hair, but John seemed to enjoy it down so much that she left it that way for the night. She would likely have a snarl to deal with in the morning, but she was sure that John would be happy to help her sort it out.

The two of them were so tired that only a few words and kisses passed between them before they were drifting off to sleep on this, their first night as husband and wife.

**

Charlotte woke in the morning to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm, solid body behind hers. John’s arm over her waist felt heavy, but in a pleasant, comforting way. It felt possessive, too, and Charlotte found that she quite liked it.

She wriggled back a little, pressing herself more closely to John’s body, and felt his manhood respond to her closeness and her movement. It was already firm against her bottom, she was surprised to find. Was he awake? Was he dreaming about her, perhaps? Or was this a normal state for a man in the morning? She would have to ask John about that.

She was also surprised by her own body’s reaction to his condition and his nearness. An already familiar ache was growing in the place between her thighs, and she could feel herself becoming wet there as well. She wanted John again.

Charlotte turned within John’s arms and felt him begin to stir. She stared into the beautiful face of her sleeping husband, so peaceful in his repose, and momentarily felt guilty for disturbing him. But her craving for him would not allow her to let him continue sleeping.

She leaned down and began to place soft kisses on his chest, feeling him starting to move a little more as she increased the pressure a bit. Her hand slid down his side with a butterfly-soft touch, then stroked over his hip. Her fingertips found the groove of muscle that ran from his hip to down near his manhood and trailed along the tempting path until they reached his shaft. Charlotte’s mouth moved up to John’s neck as her hand gently cupped his sack and caressed it, then she grasped his length and moved her hand from the base to the tip, enjoying the hot, hard feel of it.

John was starting to move more and more under her attentions but was somehow still asleep, and Charlotte was determined to wake him. She squeezed his shaft more firmly as she gave his neck a gentle bite, and she felt him jerk and heard him gasp as he came to full consciousness.

She pulled away and met John’s startled, yet aroused, gaze.

“Good morning, husband,” she said, pressing her breasts against his chest, trapping her hand between them as she continued to stroke his manhood. She captured his mouth with her own, and he responded fervently, plundering her mouth with his tongue.

John’s hands began moving, one coming up to hold her neck firmly from behind while the other roved over her body, touching everywhere John could reach. He seemed to greatly enjoy the curves of her hips and bottom this morning and spent much of his attention there as he began to thrust into her hand.

Soon he broke away from their kisses to grasp her thigh and lift it, pulling it over his hip. He moved his other hand to his shaft, guiding it to her throbbing entrance. The hand that was on her thigh moved to her bottom, pulling her towards him as he began sliding into her, a little at a time.

Charlotte hissed when he began entering her. She was sore from their joinings the day before.

John pulled his body back and looked at her in concern.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

Charlotte could see such lust in his gaze, but he was still being so mindful of her care and comfort.

“No, I want this. I am a little sore, but I want to feel you in me.”

“Are you sure, my darling girl?”

Charlotte pushed her hips forward, trying to take John back in as she answered.

“Yes, love. Please, I want this.”

John once again angled himself at her opening, then began to very slowly enter her again. It was easier now that he was moving at a more measured pace. There was a bit of tenderness there, but her hunger for him was growing, as was her body’s need for release.

Once John was fully seated in her, he held still until she began to move, wanting to wait until she was ready. Charlotte soon began to move her hips, and John responded, gently pulling out and slowly pushing back in.

Charlotte wrapped one arm around John’s waist and stroked her hand over his back as she cupped his cheek with the other hand. This pace was different from how they had coupled the day before, but it was just as delicious. Charlotte suspected that John would not last long when he had already been so aroused.

Her suspicions proved correct when John’s movements became more erratic only a minute or two later. His hand moved to the little nub at the top of her sex. It was so sensitive that she jumped a bit when he touched it. He moved his fingers in different ways until he had Charlotte beginning to whimper and gasp under his touch.

He continued pushing in and pulling out as gently as he could as he used a delicate touch on the bud between her legs. A few moments later, his body began to stutter as he spilled his seed within her. His hand stilled its rubbing and circling until he was done, but he began to move it again as he withdrew from her, determined to help Charlotte find her pleasure, too.

He slid two fingers into her, finding it a strange but gratifying sensation to feel his own slick fluid within her body. His fingers moved easily in her, and he added one more, watching her carefully for any sign of discomfort.

Instead, her breathing roughened and her cries and gasps became more pronounced. She wrapped both of her arms around John, her fingers curling into the muscles of his back. He surged forward and began kissing her in between gasps as his hand continued to work between her legs. Another minute of his fingers plunging in and out and Charlotte cried out, her body shaking as she fell over the edge into her release.

John stroked her gently as her body calmed, then withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the sheet. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek and kissed her softly.

“Well, that was certainly a wonderful way to wake up, darling girl!” he said.

“So you do not mind that I disrupted your sleep?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

“You have my permission to disrupt me in that manner whenever you would like. Morning, luncheon, middle of the night - what is time, and sleep, when I have this tempting nymph before me?”

They shared long, leisurely kisses for several minutes, stroking their hands over one another’s bodies and enjoying the unhurried pace of the morning until they became hungry. Charlotte sat up, the sheet dropping to her waist as John looked on in lustful appreciation.

“How am I supposed to get out of bed and get us something to eat when you are looking at me like that?” she asked.

“How am I supposed to refrain from looking at you like that when you are showing me so much of your lovely, tempting body?” he answered.

Charlotte leaned over and kissed him once more before she rose and walked naked to the washstand, John watching her the whole way as she blushed under his admiration. This time she was the one to wet the clean cloths and bring them back so that they could tidy themselves before they ate. She started to wash John, but he quickly took the cloth from her.

“As soon as that cloth reached my shaft under the guidance of your hand, I would have you pinned under me on this bed.”

Charlotte’s face turned scarlet, but she was immensely flattered to hear her husband voice his almost overpowering desire for her. She was not used to such forthrightness about matters like this, but she liked it and found it exciting to hear.

**

After a simple breakfast, the two decided to take a turn around the grounds near Oak Cottage. They delighted in spending time together, talking easily as they held hands and walked through the trees surrounding the cottage. They ended up at the creek that ran through the Eastons’ property and had a delightful kiss-filled interlude there before returning to the cottage as it was already nearing lunchtime.

They went straight to the kitchen upon their return, John putting on the kettle to heat as Charlotte got out the ham, cheese, bread, and fruit that was in the larder. There was fresh butter to spread on the bread as well, and there were little cakes to finish off the meal. It was a thoughtful touch for the newly married couple, who were well-sated when their luncheon was through.

“Whatever shall we do now, husband?” asked Charlotte, her chin resting on her hand as she leaned toward him at the table, fluttering her lashes.

“Are you propositioning me, wife?” he asked, incredulous that Charlotte wanted him again already. He had thought that he would be the more enthusiastic one of the two of them, but Charlotte was keeping pace easily. He again counted himself fortunate.

“That depends upon your answer,” she said coquettishly.

“I would love to say yes, sweet Charlotte, but I suspect that your body needs a bit more of a rest than the few hours it has gotten. I do not wish to hurt you. Perhaps we can see what reading material the Eastons have here?”

Charlotte pouted prettily but knew that John was right. She had been sensitive that morning already, and the lovemaking that followed would have only made her more so.

They settled into a couch in the small drawing room, John having found a collection of poetry by William Wordsworth. Charlotte curled up against John’s side, her feet pulled up underneath her skirts, as he read to her.

They passed the time pleasantly enough, but sitting with her body pressed to John’s and listening to his cultured yet sensuous voice reading love poems did nothing to dispel Charlotte’s want of him. She found herself squirming in her seat after some time, unable to hold still any longer.

John set aside the volume and wrapped his arms around his wife. He was clearly not going to be able to distract her by reading, but instead of feeling frustrated by his lack of success in drawing her attention elsewhere, he was flattered by her response to him.

If he could not distract her from sex, he may as well take the opportunity to talk with her about it.

“What did you think of our time in the tub last night, my love?”

Charlotte thought for a moment before responding. Although it brought a blush to her face to think and talk so candidly about the act of love, she appreciated that John was keeping the line of communication open and making sure that they were talking about these things.

“I liked it, very much, but I did not feel as...slick, as before?” she finished, sounding a little unsure and self-conscious.

John was determined to keep Charlotte at ease so that she never felt embarrassed talking with him, whether about this or anything else. He responded in a straightforward way to minimize her discomfort.

“Ah, yes. The water can wash away our natural fluids, so we will need to take that into consideration in the future. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable when we join together.”

His matter-of-fact answer was just what Charlotte needed to hear.

“What about this morning? Did you enjoy it when we joined together that way?” he asked.

She hummed, thinking about the way she had woken him up.

“I did. It was romantic and lovely, and you took such care of me.”

“I did not cause you pain?”

“Only that which I suspect is typical when a woman has just lost her maidenhead. It was worth it. I needed to feel you again.”

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. She felt John’s soft kiss upon her head and his arms wrapped securely around her. He made her feel so safe and protected and accepted. She drummed up her courage to bring up what was on her mind.

“John...you seem to know so much about what we have been doing together, how my body responds, how we can enjoy one another...” she said, trailing off and suddenly wishing she had not put voice to such thoughts. She did not want to hear any implications about him having been with other women. Most men of his age had already had plenty of experience in physical passion. She would not be shocked if the same were true of him, but he had seemed so reserved when they first met that his expertise had surprised her nonetheless.

John moved one of his arms and took hold of Charlotte’s chin, gently tilting her head up so that he could place a tender kiss on her lips. She noticed the blush on his face and regretted that she had embarrassed him.

“I am sorry. I should not have brought up something so unseemly-” she began, but John cut her off.

“No, it is not that. I do not want you to have to censor yourself with me. Anything you wish to discuss, I am happy to talk about it with you. It is just…,” he trailed off for a few seconds before he continued.

“You recall my trip to London a few weeks ago?”

Charlotte nodded her head, keeping silent and waiting for John to continue.

“I made another stop that day in addition to purchasing our rings. There was a bookshop in town that I knew carried certain volumes that contained things I wished to know. You see, I have not been with other women in this way, or any way, really. I have never even kissed another woman before you.”

He paused and looked at Charlotte, noting the delighted surprise on her face.

Charlotte, for her part, was pleased to realise that no other woman would ever know John in such an intimate way. She would not have held it against him if he had had amorous experiences with other women, but she was inordinately happy to know that he had been hers and hers only.

John continued speaking.

“I had always believed that these kinds of intimacies should be reserved for married couples. But I also did not experience such an overwhelming desire to be physically intimate with other women as I have with you.”

Now Charlotte wore a self-satisfied expression, obviously gratified that no other woman had brought out this primal side of John as she had. He was heartened by her response and emboldened to continue.

“I desperately wanted to make our first time together something special for you. I did not want to be like a fumbling schoolboy, using my basic knowledge to consummate our marriage but unsure of how to make it feel good for you. So I went to the bookshop, straight to the most mortifying of sections, and I paged through the books until I found a few that I could bear to purchase. I must tell you that they were _highly_ informative.”

His face was scarlet when he finished talking, so embarrassed was he by the memory of his trip and having to discuss it now.

Charlotte was touched by his admission. John so badly wanted to make their first time together special and pleasurable for her that he endured what she was sure was a very uncomfortable bookshop visit to do so.

She cleared her throat before making her own confession.

“I had a time of education that day as well. I was curious after I had felt you harden against me in the drawing room the night we were kissing in there. I recalled a book I had seen once in my brother’s room, and I went to his room to find it. My mother discovered me in there and, while I made my excuses, I am certain that she knew what I was up to.

“She called me to her room for a conversation that I would not wish to relive, but which was of some value to me in being able to ask questions. I wanted to know what to expect so that I was not entirely ignorant the first time we were together. I did not want to feel fearful. And I wanted to know how to please you.”

Charlotte’s face was now the one that was deeply flushed, but she was glad that she had told John. She had wanted to alleviate his own embarrassment by sharing hers, and she was glad that she had when she saw the expression on John’s face.

“You did that for me, my love?”

Charlotte nodded. “And you endured that for me?” she asked.

“I did. I would do anything for you.”

Charlotte and John were both deeply affected, each knowing that the other one had been willing to undergo such embarrassment for their benefit.

Charlotte surged forward, her kiss almost harsh against John’s mouth. She was filled with a desire to be as close to him as possible. She moved and quickly straddled him, her skirts pushing up to her thighs as her fingers tried to undo his trousers.

John found the presence of mind to take hold of her hands and moved them away as she whimpered against his mouth.

“Please, John! Please, I want you!”

John was tempted to give in, but he believed that restraint now would be better for Charlotte in the long run. Still, that did not mean they could do nothing.

“Do you trust me, lovely girl?”

“Always, John.”

“Sit back,” he said, turning and setting her down on the couch where they had been sitting together. He knelt on the floor in front of her and began pushing her skirts up further, until they were around her hips.

“Hold these out of my way,” he instructed her in an assertive tone that sent pleasurable chills up her spine.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

His eyes gleamed as he looked up at her to answer. “I am going to worship you with my mouth, Charlotte. Now relax, and make no further sounds unless they are ones of pleasure.”

With that, he lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders, his mouth surging forward to her sex as Charlotte cried out. There was no tentativeness in his actions. He tried different things to see what seemed to most please Charlotte. She lost track of time as he swirled his tongue through her folds, swiped it around the little bud between her legs, and plunged it into her center. He licked and sucked and nuzzled her with abandon, Charlotte moaning and whimpering and shuddering, much to his satisfaction. 

When he thought that she was getting close, he brought his fingers up and gently stroked her outer folds with them, taking care not to penetrate her overly sensitive center. He fastened his mouth to the hard bud and sucked, and Charlotte shook against his mouth, her legs tightening around his shoulders as she came.

John remained where he was, gently licking at her until her shaking subsided. Then he pulled Charlotte’s skirts back down before pushing himself up off the floor. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he sat down next to Charlotte’s limp body.

Charlotte looked up at John with glazed eyes. That was not something that she had discussed with Margaret, nor had she seen it in her quick perusal of Edmund’s book. A part of her was sure that an act of such debauchery must be wicked somehow, but she could not bring herself to be concerned about that when he had made her feel pleasure so keenly.

John knew that he bore an expression of masculine pride as he looked at his thoroughly satiated wife. The act he had just performed had been something he had not been sure he would want to try because it had seemed so scandalous. But in the moment it had felt right, and he had no guilt about having followed through. 

He had not expected to enjoy himself so much in the process, but he did. It was exhilarating to be in such intimate contact with his wife’s body and to drive her to distraction with just his mouth and fingers. He had felt powerful, and although the taste of her was not like anything he could describe, he did not find it unpleasant. He had found it quite arousing to pleasure her like this. John believed that it was his duty to bring his wife as much enjoyment as he could during their marital acts, and if it just so happened to bring him pleasure in the process, so much the better.

John pulled her closer to his body. She pushed herself up a little higher and pressed a kiss to his mouth, to John’s surprise. He had not known if she would want to kiss him after his mouth had been in contact with her womanhood, but she did not seem to mind. Her tongue slid along the seam of his lips and into his mouth when he opened it.

Charlotte swirled her tongue around in John’s mouth, tasting herself there. It was strange, but there was also something arousing about tasting the flavour of her body on his tongue. It gave her a primitive sense of possessiveness over John.

Her whole body felt almost boneless, and she slumped against John’s side, sleep pressing in on her. John rearranged them, stretching out on the couch and pulling Charlotte in front of him, her back to his front, settling her against him. He could hear her breathing already becoming steadier as she slipped into slumber.

He soon followed, but not before deciding that he would tell Charlotte about his uncle that evening. He could put it off no longer, and if he told her tonight, she would have all through the next day to think about a decision and to try to come to terms with Uncle Arthur’s state of health. He knew that she would not wish to expose Arthur to her raw grief. She would appreciate the additional time, much as he hated to taint their time away together.

He released a deep sigh before pressing his face into Charlotte’s hair, taking comfort in the smell and feel of her. His arm was draped over her, and he stroked feather-light circles over her stomach, soothing himself while allowing her to continue sleeping. His own breathing evened out, and he lost himself to slumber for a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta reader, the awesome Caffiend! If you have not read her stories, you should do that posthaste! She is absolutely BRILLIANT.


	15. A Crucial Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tells Charlotte about his uncle, and his wife provides him with some much-needed comfort.

“Charlotte, I need to talk with you about something.”

The two of them were sitting by the fire in the drawing room after a light supper. They had been talking quietly when the conversation had turned to their plans after they returned from Oak Cottage.

“Is it about your uncle?” asked Charlotte, surprising John with the accuracy of her guess.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I could see that your discussion with him in Papa’s study had greatly troubled you, far more than the health problems you had alluded to would seem to have done. I thought it likely that his situation was far more serious than you had let on, but that you did not wish to cause me distress with our wedding imminent.

“If that was the case, I did not want to add to your troubles by forcing you to tell me before you were ready to do so. I knew that you would broach the subject when you felt the time was right.”

John shook his head in wonder at his perceptive and sensitive bride, marveling at both her astute reading of the situation and her compassion in understanding what he was feeling and doing what she could to make it easier for him. He bestowed a few kisses upon Charlotte’s soft mouth before turning to her and taking hold of her hands with his.

“It is as I feared. My uncle does not have long to live. His heart is weakening every day. He is not sure quite how much time he has left, but he does not think it will be long. I would guess that it is a matter of a few months.”

“Oh, John,” she said softly, squeezing his hands with hers.

“There is more, sweet girl. And it will be quite a lot to take in, I fear.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed with concern, but John discerned the trust still in her eyes. This woman who was now his to protect and care for had such utter faith in him, and he would do his damnedest not to disappoint her. Directness had served him well with Charlotte up until now, and he would continue in that way.

“My uncle has made me his sole heir. He means to leave his estate, Leighton Hall, to me, and he wishes for me to oversee it myself. It is his wish that you and I would move there within the month so that I may work with him in its daily management. I think that it would set his mind at ease to see us in place there before it is his time. And he would probably enjoy our companionship as well.”

John could see that he had stunned Charlotte with this turn of events.

“I know that this news is shocking. I confess that it was to me, also. I had not the faintest notion that Uncle Arthur intended to leave Leighton Hall to me. It is not something to which I had ever given my consideration. But he told me that I am like a son to him, and that he cannot think of anyone better to take over its care and keeping.”

Charlotte sat quietly for a moment, taking in everything he had said and thinking about its implications.

“If we move to Leighton Hall, you will have to give up practising law, and you love your work,” she said.

“I do love it,” John answered, “but I also love the work of running an estate, both overseeing the tasks and performing some of them myself. I just did not ever anticipate that I would have one of my own. There is potential for me to take up the practise of law again in the future if we were to do this. Leighton Hall is only a few miles away from Winchester. If I can talk Mr. Tibbetts into expanding the practise to a second location, I believe that I could establish a law office there in perhaps a year or two, should I wish to return to the legal profession. But I also believe that I could be quite content managing the estate full time.

“My concern is whether or not you would be content there. You have never known life away from Carshalton and Woodridge, and all of your family and friends. You did not know about this when we married, and neither of us knew about this when I proposed. I will not force you into a life that you do not want and that was entirely unexpected to you.”

John paused and looked at Charlotte. He had no desire to rush her into a decision, but time was not on their side. Still, he could give her a little space to think without hovering.

“I have given you much to think about. I will leave you in peace to give it your consideration. Uncle Arthur is hoping that we will be able to give him an answer the day after tomorrow, when we stop at Woodridge on our way back to our flat. But if you are not ready to make a decision with me by then, I will tell him and we will send word to him at Leighton Hall when we have decided.”

John leaned forward to give Charlotte a gentle kiss before he released her hands and left the drawing room to go upstairs to the bedroom.

**

John had not been settled against the pillows he’d propped up at the head of the bed for more than three or four minutes before he heard footsteps on the staircase. Charlotte entered the room and kicked off her slippers, leaving them by John’s boots on the floor. She climbed up onto the bed and sat next to John, curling a hand around his arm that was closest to her.

He looked at her curiously, wondering if she had more questions to ask him after she had begun thinking about the ramifications of what he had told her.

Charlotte turned to him and asked, “Do you wish to move to Leighton Hall and take over its management? Do you wish for us to make our home there?”

John looked at her as he thought about her simple question. She had not asked about the details or lamented the changes it would bring. She only wanted to know if it was what he desired.

“I do. But is it what you would like? Would you be happy there?”

“I will be happy if I am with you, husband,” she answered him. “‘Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.’ As long as we are together, I will be content.”

“Truly? You are willing to uproot yourself from the only home you have ever known, with very little warning, to move far from your family and live at Leighton Hall?”

“It will be difficult to say goodbye to them, but there are carriages and coaches, and we can visit them. And they can come to stay with us for visits as well. Your uncle would not have spoken with you about leaving the estate to you if he did not believe that you are the one who should have it and that you are well-suited to run it. I only wish that we were not making this decision under such somber circumstances, and that we had a bit more time to make the change. But I believe we will do well there,” she finished.

“Charlotte,” John began, placing his hands on the sides of her face and leaning forward to put his forehead against hers. “You are even more remarkable than I already knew you to be. That you would make this decision, and do it so quickly, astonishes me. How am I so fortunate?"

He bent his head and kissed his wife tenderly.

Charlotte could see that the conversation earlier had brought the heavy emotions that John had been suppressing to the fore. With their wedding and becoming lovers at long last, he had been able to push them down until forced to confront them during their talk. Now they were threatening to overwhelm him.

“Tell me about your uncle, love,” she said. She knew that he held much fondness for the man and hoped that talking about him might either lift his spirits or give him a focus for some of that strong emotion.

His eyes looked off into the distance as he thought, and she could see that he was immersing himself in nostalgia, remembering times he had spent with his uncle previously. He sat back against the pillows as he began to speak.

“Uncle Arthur has always been an insightful man, and a compassionate one as well. He visited our family often after my aunt passed during the birth of their first child, who also did not survive. At first, I think he came so often to distract himself from their loss and to avoid the memories that Leighton Hall held of their past happiness.

“I do not remember ever seeing him cry in his grief, but I knew that he missed them dearly. I could see it in his face. I made it my young self’s goal to try to make him happy, even for just a few minutes at a time."

Charlotte’s heart clenched at the thought of a sensitive young John making it his mission to cheer his grieving uncle.

“He, in turn, took great interest in my education as a man of the land. I never understood why when I was younger, since I knew that Brockworth House would go to my brother George. Although I suppose, in my naivete, I had not considered that I was second in line as my father’s heir, should anything happen to my brother.

“At any rate, Uncle Arthur saw that I loved learning about the estate and how it was run, about the care of his animals and the tending of the grounds, the relationships with the tenants and the management of the servants. He taught me everything he could when I was visiting him.

“He always made sure to spend time with me when he would visit us at Brockworth House, too - fishing, boating, tramping about the grounds together. He taught me and my sisters to swim. I am sure he would have taught George as well, but George had already learned. He showed a genuine interest in us and an enjoyment in sharing things with us.”

John’s face bore an affectionate smile as he shared with Charlotte stories about his uncle. Some of them made her laugh, some made her feel wistful, and some made her feel deep gratitude for the man who had played such an important part in shaping her husband into the man he became.

But, after a time, she could see the heaviness of the evening taking its toll on John and knew that he needed rest. She was feeling weary as well, trying to help her husband bear the burden of the impending loss.

Charlotte pulled off her dress and laid it over the chair nearby, remaining in her shift. She removed John’s cravat and his waistcoat, placing them with her dress, and encouraged him to move further down the pillows until he was lying flat. Pulling up a blanket from the end of the bed, she laid it over them and curled up against his side, hoping that her warm body would provide him with the comfort he needed in order to get some sleep.

**

Charlotte woke a few hours later to find John’s side of the bed cold. She sat up and looked around the room, spying John sitting in the large wingback chair by the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames.

“You could not sleep, my love?”

John’s gaze moved to her face when she spoke. It was clear that he had been lost in thoughts before that.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you. My mind is too full and heart too heavy tonight.”

Charlotte got out of bed and walked over to John. He patted his thigh, and she sat down on it, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head against her chest. She stroked her fingers through his curls and kissed his head as John’s arms came around her waist. He rubbed his cheek against the skin of her chest that was showing above the low neckline of her chemise, then turned his mouth towards her chest and peppered little kisses there. 

They were gentle kisses, not seeking to further their embrace, but Charlotte knew that their physical closeness was bringing John some solace. She put one hand underneath John’s chin and lifted his head, bringing his mouth to hers. Slowly, she increased the intensity of their kisses, her hand moving to his chest and slipping inside the open top of his linen shirt.

John’s responses to her became more urgent as she stroked his skin, sliding her hand down further to lightly tickle his abdomen, the muscles jumping underneath her fingers. She longed for a more intimate touch.

Charlotte moved off of John’s lap and sat next to him in the wide chair. She pulled his mouth back to hers, then used her fingers to make quick work of the buttons of his trousers. Reaching her hand in, she took hold of his hot manhood, noting with some pride that it was already quite firm. She remembered how well it had responded to her hand before and wanted to be purposeful in bringing John a similar kind of satisfaction now.

She slid her hand up and down, from the base to the tip and back again, feeling John responding to her touch. His breathing quickened and he moved his hips with the motions of her hand. The same moisture she had noticed before was beginning to show at the head of his length, and she ran a fingertip through it, just as before. But this time, she had an irresistible urge to taste it.

Before she could think it through enough to stop herself for the sake of propriety and expectations, she put her finger to her mouth and licked it. It tasted a little salty, a little sweet, and a little musky. There was something very primal about tasting her husband, and it drove her to want to do more of it.

Charlotte looked at John and saw that his pupils were blown, the blue of his eyes nearly impossible to see between the firelight and his arousal. She knew that she could not take away the pain of his grief forever, but she could help to ease it somewhat now. She could do this for him. She wanted to do this for him, if he would allow it.

Charlotte slid to the floor, pushing John’s legs further apart so that she could kneel between them. John watched as if he was spellbound as she pushed aside the flap of his trousers, then took hold of his shaft. She began to lower her head.

He found the presence of mind to speak. “Wait, darling! You do not need to do this for me.”

Charlotte’s heart filled with love for this man, still so solicitous of her even while he was exposed and throbbing with desire in her hand. “I want to do this. For you and for me.”

John’s length jumped in her hand at her words. She bent her head forward, keeping her eyes on him as she did so, and flicked her tongue out to give the tip the lightest lick.

John gasped and jumped but showed no further signs of protesting or stopping her. Encouraged, Charlotte began licking up and down the entire shaft, one hand holding it as the other slid down to gently cup him from underneath. His sac felt very different from his shaft, but she found it intriguing to touch and explore him there, too.

Charlotte stopped for a moment, wanting to make sure that she was doing things to John’s enjoyment. “Tell me if I should be doing anything differently,” she said, looking up at John with luminous eyes.

He looked back at her with eyes that were filled with love and desire. “You are doing it perfectly, sweet girl,” he said in a thick voice.

John bit his lip as Charlotte began to use her mouth on him again. His hands came up to her hair, moving mindlessly as they ran through the strands. He was trying hard to be gentle and not to pull on her hair despite the intensity of sensation that he was feeling in his manhood. He felt the few remaining pins that were there scatter as he drew his fingers through her silky locks. When her hair was free of them, he began to run his fingers through it and circle them over her scalp.

Charlotte hummed at the feel of John’s fingers massaging her head, and the resulting vibration on John’s skin made him jump.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as she pulled her mouth away, eyes wide.

“No, that just felt incredible. But, I wonder if…” he said, stopping, unsure if he could make the request.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, knowing that he wanted to ask for something but not sure if he should.

“Would you...take me into your mouth?” he asked.

Charlotte smiled at him in a way that he could only describe as sultry before she bent her head, licked along him once more, then took the tip of his shaft into her mouth.

John groaned as he felt the wet warmth of her mouth around him for the first time. His response emboldened Charlotte, and she moved her mouth further down, taking in a little more of him before pulling back and looking up at him.

“I am not quite sure what to do.”

“Just move your mouth up and down, closing your lips around me, sucking on me,” said John. He was too aroused to be embarrassed by the crude nature of his instructions to her.

Charlotte returned to her task with more confidence, and soon her mouth was eliciting groans and gasps from her husband, Charlotte’s chest swelling with pride over his responses. She felt powerful and sensual with John at her mercy, losing all his composure.

John was having a hard time not thrusting into her welcoming mouth, but he did not wish to cause Charlotte discomfort or treat her roughly. It took all of the blood remaining in his brain to keep some semblance of control so that he did not push forward. It did not take long until he knew that his release was imminent.

“Charlotte, love, I’m coming,” he said, giving her time to pull away. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold on until she could move.

However, his bride did not move away from him. She continued to caress him with her mouth and, at his words, her sucking became more fervent.

“Charlotte, I can’t hold out-” he said, cutting off a moment later when he began to spill in her mouth.

To John’s amazement, Charlotte never pulled away from him. He could see the motion of her throat as she swallowed his release. It was the most erotic thing he had ever beheld. When he finished, she looked up at him and delicately wiped the edges of her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She looked vulnerable and almost bashful, unsure what John’s response would be. He slid off of the chair and sank down onto the floor in front of her, taking her face into his hands and kissing her tenderly.

“Darling girl, you are incredible. I love you so much,” he whispered against Charlotte’s mouth.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back. Then she rose from the ground as she took hold of his hands, pulling him with her. She led John over to the bed, then helped him off with his shirt and trousers.

“Into bed with you,” she said quietly. John slipped naked between the covers and watched as his wife laid out his clothing on the chair with her dress. Then she took hold of the hem of her chemise and lifted it over her head, leaving her standing bare before him. He was weary but still found himself wanting her.

As she got into bed next to him, he reached for her and pulled her against him, beginning to run his hands over her body as he kissed her, feeling passion rising within him. Charlotte allowed him to touch her only briefly before she broke off the kiss.

“Sleep,” she said in the same quiet voice.

“Do you not wish for me to make you feel good, my love?” he asked. “You do not want me to pleasure you?”

“I took pleasure from what we did already. And as for anything more, that can wait until tomorrow. You are exhausted, and you need to sleep now. We have all day tomorrow for you to ravish me,” she said teasingly.

“I am going to hold you to that promise, wife,” said John with a mix of disappointment and relief. He did want Charlotte and would find the energy somewhere if she had conceded, but she was right. He was worn out and felt as if he could finally fall asleep.

Charlotte gently turned him to face away from her, then pressed herself against his back, her body cradling his. She slipped an arm over his waist and stroked his stomach softly.

John took hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm tenderly. He twined his fingers through hers and held her hand to his chest, his breath evening out with the arousing yet comforting warmth of his wife’s lush curves pressed against him. He was grateful for her in so many ways: her bravery, her boldness, her passion, her love for him, her compassion. It was thoughts of Charlotte on his mind as he finally found rest for the night.

**

Sometime in the night, their positions had reversed. John was now the one who was draped protectively over Charlotte, one arm underneath her head and the other across her torso, his hand perilously close to her breasts. It took only a slight movement to bring his fingers into contact with their soft roundness.

She was even more tempting than she had been in the middle of the night. And she had, after all, promised John that he could ravish her all day. He intended to begin as soon as possible.

His hand moved over her skin with more deliberate purpose, stroking her nipples as he started kissing the back of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way. His mouth moved to the side of her neck, then up along her jaw to her ear.

Charlotte’s breathing had become more uneven, and the slight squirming of her body under his touch told John that she was awake, but she said nothing. Instead, she pressed herself back against John’s hardened manhood, causing him to hiss.

He heard her self-satisfied chuckle at his response and redoubled his own efforts, bringing his arm around her from underneath to take over at her breasts as the other hand stroked the spot between her legs. Charlotte ground herself back against him even more firmly.

John needed to be surrounded by her. He pulled his hand back from her warm, wet folds to grasp her thigh, lifting it to open her up to him. Lining himself up, he slid into her slick warmth from behind, both of them sighing with relief and pleasure. She was still tight around him, but it was easier today than it had been upon their first coupling two days before.

John slid his hand back along her hip and over her abdomen, down to the juncture of her thighs. He began to touch Charlotte in the ways he was discovering she liked and felt her clench against his shaft in response. It was almost enough to make him come immediately, but he longed to bring her to her release first, or at least have her close enough to follow him.

Charlotte was nearly overwhelmed with the sensations John was making her feel. It had been a lovely way to wake up, with her husband’s body pressed to hers and his hands roving over her body. She thought that she would quite enjoy beginning every day this way.

John’s long, talented fingers between her legs were joining with his fullness inside her to bring her quickly to the brink of release, the delicious pressure building rapidly. She pressed back against him, trying to draw him even further into her body. John’s hand continued to stroke her between her legs as his other arm moved up to hold her across her chest, grasping her shoulder and holding her even more firmly against him as he continued to thrust.

It was enough to grant the release she had been seeking, and her body clenching around him pulled John into his own. The two of them lay together for several minutes while still joined, panting harshly.

As his breath returned to him, John leaned over his wife’s shoulder and she turned her head towards him as he gently captured her mouth with his own. He slipped out of her body and rolled onto his back.

Charlotte turned and lay on his chest, leaning up to continue kissing him lazily. Neither had spoken, but they were enjoying their quiet affection, completely at ease with one another. It was not long before they were dozing again, taking advantage of this last day at the cottage together to savour the opportunity to be close.

Their day progressed in much the same way, the two of them spending their time entwined as much as possible, making love, holding one another or maintaining contact with frequent touches, talking, and sharing simple meals when hunger overtook them.

When evening arrived, they once again took a bath, John trying valiantly to behave himself and helping Charlotte to wash her hair so that it would be clean when Mary came in the morning to help Charlotte arrange it. Eleanor had sent word that Mary would bring them breakfast as well. They would be traveling back to Woodridge late in the morning to join both of their families for a luncheon, then the two of them would meet with Uncle Arthur to tell him of their decision and begin making plans.

It was to be a day rife with serious discussion and emotion, but John felt so much stronger in facing it now that he had talked with Charlotte. She was more of a helpmate to him already than he could have possibly dreamed, and her strength gave him strength. Her love bolstered him and lifted him up. Her passion had pulled him out of the depths of sorrow and stoked the fire that was already within him whenever he was around her. Being married to her was better than he could ever have imagined.

As for Charlotte, she had been introduced to several new aspects of her husband over the last few days. In addition to being a delightfully ardent lover, he had been her protector, keeping the news about Uncle Arthur until they had been able to enjoy their wedding day and consummate their marriage several times over so as not to place the emotional weight upon her until it was necessary. And when he did talk with her about it, he was respectful and straightforward, telling her of his uncle’s request but not seeking to influence her decision. He did not tell her his wishes until she asked him, wanting to know how Charlotte herself felt. He treated her as his equal. And he had not been scandalised by her actions in the bedroom or anywhere else. She felt safe, loved, and accepted completely.

They sat near the fire in the drawing room as Charlotte’s hair dried, John reading to her as on their first day there. His voice had the same effect on her as it did then, and soon she was climbing up onto his lap, the two of them drawn into an impassioned embrace as the book dropped, forgotten, to the ground.

Tomorrow would be a challenging day, but for tonight, they still had a few hours left to enjoy one another. They intended to take full advantage of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks go to Caffiend, who gave me some excellent feedback on a couple of points in this chapter!


	16. A Return to Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brief honeymoon is over and the Plumptres must now put their decision into action.

Reality dawned with the next morning. Today they would return to Woodridge and talk with Arthur. Then they would need to break the news to their families. It would likely not be a shock to John’s family that Arthur’s health was rapidly declining, but they might well be surprised by the news that John was to inherit Leighton Hall and that he and Charlotte would be moving there very soon. They would be a good deal closer to John’s family after they had moved, and he was sure that his mother and sisters would be particularly pleased.

But this move would separate Charlotte from her family for the first time. Although they would be able to travel from Leighton Hall to Woodridge in one long day in a carriage, it would not be practical to do so during certain parts of the year. They would not be able to see one another weekly or even monthly, much less daily as they had been accustomed to doing. John knew that the news would be quite difficult for some of them to hear.

Charlotte stirred in the bed next to him, then he heard her sigh. He knew that she was thinking about the same things that he was. He turned toward her and stroked his hand gently up and down the soft skin of her back, wanting to bring her comfort with his touch.

John felt her body relax under his fingers. He continued to soothe her, his hand reaching under her hair to massage the back of her neck, then gliding down her back in long strokes, all the way down to her small waist. He was seeking nothing from Charlotte but to alleviate some of her anxiety and provide her with his tangible support.

His wife seemed to have other ideas. Her body began to squirm underneath his hands as her breathing became rougher. Soft whimpers were coming from her just before she turned over to face him, his hand now at her waist.

She lay before him unembarrassed, John would even say confident, as his bold gaze raked over her breasts. His fingers followed the path that his eyes were tracing, and when they reached a nipple, she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him into a deep, slow kiss.

John moved over her as her legs parted for him, but he held off on entering her, instead pressing himself lightly against her body as he supported himself with his arms. He reveled in the feeling of her breasts against his chest and the warmth of her body as they continued kissing, wishing for a moment that they could stop time and be together like this for hours, even days.

Charlotte began to undulate her hips beneath him, seeking to be filled. She used her feet against the back of his thighs to urge him to answer her unspoken request.

John stopped kissing her as he slid into her warmth, wanting to watch the reaction on her beautiful face. Her mouth opened into a gasp of pleasure when he pushed into her at an almost leisurely pace, and there was the most delightful hitch in her breath as he began to move with deliberate slowness.

Charlotte wrapped her arms around his back as he pulled out and pushed in, but she did not attempt to speed up the pace. Instead, she moved with the same measured purposefulness, the two of them savouring their languid morning lovemaking.

When the pressure at last began to build within Charlotte’s center, she moved her hips with a bit more urgency, and John matched her, increasing the speed of his thrusts just enough. He was learning what touches helped her to find her completion faster, and he slid his hand down over her body and between the two of them to stroke the place between her legs that made her buck underneath him. It took less than half a minute before Charlotte was shuddering and crying out with her release.

John continued to gently stroke her, her body quivering under his fingers and around his shaft as he plunged in and pulled out, finding his own release a minute later. The two of them were both breathing heavily when they were done, despite the unhurried nature of their joining. 

John started to roll off of Charlotte, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. But she took hold of him and pulled him closer, wanting to feel the delicious weight of him pressing against her body.

Charlotte sighed contentedly. “I shall miss this place when we are gone. It has been like a little love nest.”

John gave a soft laugh. “Then we must endeavour to find our own little love nest at Leighton Hall.”

They kissed and caressed for a few more minutes until they finally had to acknowledge the passing of time and the imminent arrival of Mary. They rose from the bed, washing up with the water from the basin in the room before dressing quickly. 

John sat behind Charlotte on the bed and tenderly brushed out her curls, taking special care with the spots where it was threatening to snarl. She had left it undone nearly the entire time they had been at Oak Cottage, and he had loved seeing it around her shoulders and down her back. He knew that, for propriety’s sake, she would be wearing it up again now that they were returning to the company of others. But he would look forward with anticipation to every evening when she would let it down again, and would regularly try to talk her out of braiding it for bed. He would happily brush it every morning if she would indulge him.

He swept her hair aside now and kissed the back of her neck as he set the brush aside, his arms coming up to wrap around her waist and steal one last moment of affection as the knock on the door sounded, announcing Mary’s arrival.

Mary had brought Bath cakes for their breakfast. They enjoyed the rich, buttery buns with their crunchy sugared caraway comfits. Charlotte’s cheeks were tinged pink when she saw that Mary had also prepared drinking chocolate for them. Mrs. Wood had explained during their fateful discussion that it was believed that the drink made women more fertile. Evidently, this was the Eastons’ contribution to them starting a family quickly.

John smiled when he saw her blush. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you later,” she responded. She nearly giggled when she thought about the discussion that would ensue. She was quite sure that John was willing to do his part to find out if the superstition was true.

After breakfast, Mary worked quickly to arrange Charlotte’s hair in a very becoming style, then assisted her with packing what she had brought to the cottage. John had already packed his own things and was waiting downstairs, watching for the carriage, when they came down.

“You look lovely,” he said to his wife, then turned to the maid.

“You have a deft hand with hair, Mary,” he said.

She flushed under the praise but was clearly pleased when she thanked him and then excused herself after a quick curtsy to them both, off to take care of cleaning up from breakfast and tidying up the rest of the cottage.

The carriage arrived shortly after, and they were soon on their way to Woodridge. Charlotte shared what she knew about the chocolate, which only led to John’s hands roaming amorously for the majority of their ride, despite Charlotte’s weak protestations that they were on their way to see both of their families.

“Yes, and I shall have to be quite well-behaved for far too long. We ought to take advantage of our seclusion while we can.”

Charlotte could not argue with that, although John did show some restraint for the last few minutes of their drive, allowing each of them to compose themselves before their family members came piling out of Woodridge to greet them warmly. If their families noticed flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair, they were polite enough not to remark about such things.

**

Luncheon had been a joyous affair, but once it was over, John and Charlotte adjourned to the parlour with Uncle Arthur. They felt it would be more comfortable to talk there than in the smaller space of the study.

John and Charlotte shared a couch, while Arthur eased into a cosy chair near the lit fire. The room felt overly hot to the couple, but Arthur had lost a lot of weight in recent months and they knew that he needed the extra warmth. Charlotte brought him a blanket before sitting, Arthur smiling at her in appreciation of her thoughtfulness.

Once they were all settled, Arthur immediately addressed the issue at hand.

“I trust that my nephew has told you of my condition, and my request?”

“Yes, he has, sir.”

“Oh, we’re family now! Please call me Uncle.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, smiling at the congenial man.

He spoke, directing his words to Charlotte.

“I know that this must have come as rather a shock to you, as it was to John, who had much more of an awareness of my health issues. I do not know if you were able to make a decision, but if not, I have no desire to rush you. I know that, if you do decide to accept, it will bring about major changes in your lives.”

“We do not wish to keep you in suspense, Uncle Arthur,” she responded. “We are accepting your generous offer to move to Leighton Hall and will be there by the first day of June. We are honoured to have the opportunity to enjoy your company for as long as we are privileged to do so, and we will endeavour to care for everything and everyone with the same high standards that I know you have already established.”

Arthur stared at her for a moment before turning an astonished gaze to John. Her immediate, and seemingly easy, acceptance of a turn of events that was going to uproot her entire life amazed him.

“You have married a remarkable woman, John,” he told his nephew.

“I certainly have, Uncle. It was not five minutes after I had revealed all to her when she told me that she was willing to do this. She is extraordinary, and I am very blessed that I am able to call her mine,” he said, looking at Charlotte with open adoration.

Charlotte flushed under John’s words and his gaze, but she did not look away from her husband until Arthur spoke again.

“I suppose we should begin to discuss the specifics then.”

Charlotte was surprised and pleased to be included right from the outset in their plans. Many men would have dismissed her from the room, or attempted to do so, before any discussion happened. She was immensely thankful that this was the man who had had such an influence on her husband’s life, and that they would be able to spend so much time with him in upcoming weeks or, if they were very fortunate, months.

**

Charlotte and John broke the news to her family after they had spent time with Uncle Arthur working out some of the details. They knew that her family’s response would be quite different from his, as they would be moving far away from Carshalton but would be much closer to his own family near Chawton. Leighton Hall was only a few hours’ carriage ride from Brockworth House.

Arthur wanted to keep the news about his condition quiet so as not to cast a pall over this visit and the news of their inheritance. Instead, they told her family that Arthur was ready to hand over the day-to-day operations to John, his heir, and that he hoped to hand them over directly to John, rather than to a steward who would only manage things in the interim until John was ready at some later date. It was a plausible enough explanation as to why they could not postpone and move in a year or two. Charlotte would tell her parents the full extent of the situation before they moved.

Her parents were quiet in their response. Charlotte she could see the tears in her mother’s eyes, despite the smile on her face, and the ones that her father turned away to wipe before turning back to tell them how happy he was for their good fortune and how pleased he was by Arthur’s generosity. Edmund’s face bore a stoic expression, but she saw sorrow in his eyes and knew that he was already missing her. Anne and Louisa were excited to learn that the couple would be moving to a grand estate and would be the master and mistress there. They were already asking when they could make their first visit.

Charlotte was glad that the two of them were there to keep things lighter and to treat this move as a joyful occurrence. It would have been hard for Charlotte to have done so that evening if they had not, and she was determined to remain positive and be a support to John. She knew that there would be grieving ahead, and times where she would absolutely feel homesickness, but she did not wish to start dwelling in those emotions already.

The conversation with John’s family a short while later saw much happier responses. Even his father appeared pleased that the two of them would be close enough to make regular visits a possibility. They could easily plan house parties that included one another’s families. Elizabeth and Lavinia were especially excited about that prospect.

Evening was approaching soon and John and Charlotte began preparing to make their way back to his flat so that they could settle in for the night. Her father was going to send them in one of the family carriages.

“Mrs. Carter nearly has supper ready,” said her mother. “Will you not stay long enough to eat with us before returning home? Then you will not need to arrange for a meal tonight.”

It was a sensible idea and Charlotte was feeling sentimental about leaving her family home with the longer distance that would soon be between them. While they waited, Margaret asked to speak with Charlotte in her sitting room.

“I know that you were going to hire your own maid, but with your change in plans, would it not be better to have Jane come to assist you until your move? She would not need to begin at square one and would be a great help to you in making preparations.”

“But we are in need of a maid-of-all-work, Mama. Do you think Jane would be willing to take on such duties? She has essentially been a lady’s maid, with only minor household tasks when she is not assisting us.”

“When I mentioned to her that you and John will be relocating to Leighton House, she volunteered. She said that no honest work is beneath her and that she does not mind getting her hands dirty when necessary. She wanted to make herself useful for the two of you.”

“Oh, Mama, that would be wonderful! I confess that the thought of readying everything to move in less than four weeks is daunting. Jane’s assistance would be invaluable.”

“It is settled then. I shall send her to you tomorrow. Have you a spare room where she can sleep while she is with you?”

“I will ask John. We had thought to hire someone locally to come during the daytime, but perhaps his landlady has a spare room that she will let out to us.”

**

Supper was the last meal all of them would have together as John and Charlotte would be in town the next day when his family’s carriages arrived to take them back home. When the meal was over, they gave embraces all around and then walked out to the front, where Mr. Wood had already had the carriage brought around for the couple.

To their surprise, this was not the family carriage that Charlotte had been expecting. Instead, it was a brand new carriage of similarly fine quality, along with a beautifully matched pair of horses.

Charlotte looked at her father in confusion.

“I had planned to give this to you as a wedding gift. I had thought that you could keep it here if you wished, until John purchased the home I knew he had been expecting to buy later in the year, or that you could rent space to store it in town until then if you preferred.

“With your move to Winchester, it would seem that this is more needed than I had realised. Reed sent one of the stable boys to town this afternoon after our talk. I have paid for your horses to be boarded at a stable close to your home, and there is room for them to keep your carriage for you as well. It is yours to take with you to Leighton Hall, as are the horses.”

“Oh, Papa!” Charlotte exclaimed. “It is too much!”

“I hope that you do not truly think so, as there is something else your mother and I would like to give to you. We discussed it this afternoon and are in agreement that you ought to have Artemis and Athena on your estate. You have always loved that horse, and she loves you, too. Athena is not ready to travel that distance yet, but when she is, we will bring her ourselves, along with Artemis.”

Charlotte put her trembling hand over her mouth, too overcome with emotion to speak for a moment. She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill onto her cheeks and waited until she felt she could speak with a steady voice, John’s arm around her waist and his hand providing a comforting pressure there.

Then she went to her father. “Oh, Papa! We cannot possibly accept them! Artemis is among your most valuable horses!”

“You have always had a special relationship with her, Charlotte. And we would have neither Artemis nor Athena if it was not for John. I insist that you allow me to gift them to you.”

Charlotte did not want to insult her parents by refusing such an astounding gift, even as it overwhelmed her to do so. She embraced her father, then her mother, who kept a tight hold on her daughter until both finally let go of one another. Charlotte had known that this move would be difficult in terms of the emotional toll, but she did not expect it to start so soon.

John thanked his new in-laws with a quiet sincerity and damp eyes as Charlotte composed herself. At last, she drew away from her parents and took John’s outstretched hand, the two of them walking to their beautiful new carriage and settling themselves inside. Mr. Wood had arranged for a driver and footmen to accompany them. Off they went to settle in to their home together.

**

Charlotte had felt quite emotional on the drive away from Woodridge. This more than her wedding day made it real to her that she had truly left home. Although she would still be nearby for a few weeks, the knowledge that she would soon be moving far away made the trip that much more poignant.

John’s strong arm around her shoulders made her feel safe and secure, even in the midst of her upset. She curled into him and wrapped an arm around his waist as they rode. He did not ask her questions or try to cheer her. He simply was there, warm and steady and smelling somehow like home. She knew that she would be well, as long as she was with him.

Charlotte felt much calmer and more at peace when the carriage stopped in the street in front of John’s flat. She tucked into her reticule the handkerchief that John had slipped to her, then smoothed down her hair in preparation for alighting from the carriage. The door opened and John descended, then turned to hand her out.

“I’ll bring up your bags in just a minute, sir,” said the footman.

John looked to Charlotte with a light in his eyes, excited to be home with her at last. It might only be their habitation for a few weeks, but it would be their first home together. Oak Cottage was lovely but had belonged to someone else. Coming here felt utterly different, and he was nearly overcome with sentiment at the thought.

Charlotte could see it on his face. She cupped his cheek and smiled at him, a smile filled with affection for this loving, tenderhearted man who was her husband.

“Well, wife, would you like to see our home now?” he asked her.

“That sounds delightful, husband!” she answered, and he swung her up into his arms as she shrieked, heedless of making a scene. He did not care who knew he was carrying his bride over the threshold.

He made his way up the stairs with no trouble at all, Charlotte declaring that she was nearly swooning over his show of masculine power. He blushed but his chest puffed up with pride nonetheless.

Charlotte reached into John’s coat pocket for the key and unlocked the door, pushing it open after she’d turned the handle. John swept her through the doorway with a flourish, then set her down to examine her new domain. He kissed her before returning downstairs to see about the carriage and horses.

It was on the second floor of a well-kept townhouse a few streets away from Tibbetts and Plumptre. The furnishings were modest but of an excellent quality, and it was apparent that someone had been taking good care of them. Charlotte thought it likely that John’s landlady sent one of her maids around weekly to make sure everything was properly maintained for her tenants.

To the right in the main room, there were comfortable chairs arranged around a fireplace, accent tables situated nearby. There was a vividly-coloured oriental rug underneath the chairs, and the parquet flooring in the rest of the room was shining with care, the intricate pattern of the rich wood catching Charlotte’s eye immediately. The other side of the room had a small dining table with four chairs around it, situated so that people sitting at the table would have a view out the front bay window. A desk was against the wall between the door and the front window.

A door off of the dining area led to a tidy kitchen that was just large enough for a bachelor, or for a young couple starting out. There was a wood-burning iron stove, a wall of cabinets, a counter with a sink, and a large metal tub hanging on one wall, presumably for baths. Stepping back into the main room, Charlotte noticed a door in the back corner which she guessed led to the bedroom. Her cheeks coloured at this realisation. This would be the first night that they would share John’s own bed. Despite their previous intimacies, her stomach did flips at the thought.

The front door opened then and John came in, followed by the footman, who was carrying their bags. John directed him on where to set them down, then thanked the man as he left, John locking the door behind him.

“The driver told me that he would see to the care of the horses and the keeping of the carriage. Your father had already given him directions as to which stable to use. We have nothing left to do for the evening. However shall we pass the time?” he asked, approaching Charlotte with a deceptively innocent look on his angelic face.

“I do believe we shall be able to think of something, sir,” she answered him, only just managing to keep a smile off of her own face.

“I should warn you, dear wife. There is no fireplace in the bedroom. We must think of some way in which we may keep warm.”

Taking John’s hand, she led the way towards the door in the corner. “Let us go there and see if anything particular occurs to us.”

Opening the door, Charlotte saw a modestly-sized bedroom with a large brass double bed taking up most of the space. There was a beautiful quilt covering it and comfortable-looking pillows at the head of the bed. There was a small table with a lamp on one side of the bed, a wardrobe against one of the walls, an upholstered chair next to a few bookshelves, and a washstand with a porcelain bowl and pitcher in a corner.

“I suppose we should get under the covers as soon as possible so that we can get warm. I would hate for either of us to catch a chill,” said Charlotte, keeping her manner demure even as her heart started to beat a little faster and an ache began between her legs.

“Quite right. It would be the prudent thing to do,” said John, playing along with her practical suggestion and coy tone.

They undressed quickly and slipped under the covers, not bothering to pull out the nightclothes that were packed in their bags. Instead, they wrapped themselves around one another, their body heat quickly warming up the space under the covers and dispelling all thoughts of a chill in the room as their hands stroked over one another’s skin. They coupled quickly this time, impatience and desire working together to make them ready and urge them onward to completion.

When both had found their release, Charlotte with the help of John’s talented fingers, they curled up together, enjoying the feeling of skin against skin. Charlotte lay back against John’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

She broke the quiet after a minute.

“Mr. Tibbetts is expecting you tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, he is. I sent a message to him today after we had spoken with Uncle Arthur. I did not wish to take him by surprise by showing up unexpectedly at the office with no notice.”

“I do hope he does not take the news too badly, John.”

“As do I. He has been a wonderful mentor to me, and I have enjoyed our partnership immensely. I do not wish to leave him in the lurch. It is my hope that we will be able to come up with a satisfactory plan for the next few weeks and after I am gone.”

The two continued quietly talking until sleep overtook them, contentment filling them and allowing their minds to be at rest for the night.

**

Charlotte opened her eyes early on Saturday morning feeling wonderfully warm and safe, cradled as she was by John’s long body behind her. She was tempted to wake him up, but they had woken up several times overnight to enjoy one another, and she knew that John would be tired. Although she was sure he would rise to the occasion, she was also still sleepy, and she allowed her eyelids to close once again, resolving to wake him later if he was asleep the next time she stirred.

Instead, she woke to realise that the sunshine streaming in through the curtains meant that it was far later than she had planned on sleeping. She could hear the sounds of Jane busying herself in the flat. John was standing with his back to her. He had already pulled on his shirt and was hurriedly tucking it into his trousers.

He turned as she sat up in bed and raked his eyes over her. The sheet had fallen to her waist, and he groaned as he eyed her soft breasts, tempting him to ignore Jane’s presence and shirk his tasks until even later. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it of lustful thoughts, he set his resolve and spoke.

“Darling, we have slept too late and Jane is already here. Now my plans to ravish you this morning must be delayed until tonight. I do not know how I shall ever survive the time until then,” he finished melodramatically.

Charlotte laughed at his theatrics. “I am quite sure that you will find a way to endure this trial. But I suppose I must also dress, or I will shock young Jane.”

Charlotte swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, striding around it and towards John. “However, first I must have a good morning kiss,” she said, pressing herself up against John’s body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, her warmth permeating his single layer of clothing easily as she made good on her declaration.

John’s hands slid down her back to cup her bottom, giving it a squeeze. “You are a vixen, Mrs. Plumptre, and I am going to be exceedingly uncomfortable when I go out to greet Jane. I shall have to carry something in front of my trousers to hide my current state for fear of corrupting the poor girl.”

“I am terribly sorry, husband,” said Charlotte, looking up at John through her lashes as she bit her lower lip.

“I do not believe you for one second, wife,” he answered, letting go of her after one more kiss. “I am off to pay a call to the Tibbetts residence in the hopes that James will be there. He is usually home on Saturdays. I do not expect to return before late afternoon, but I will be counting the hours until I see you again.”

He quickly buttoned his trousers as he spoke, then donned his waistcoat and cravat, picking up his coat to put on in the outer room. Kissing Charlotte tenderly, he exited the room and sent Jane in to assist Charlotte.

In the meantime, Charlotte had put on her chemise and was starting to fasten her corset. He could hear quiet conversation as Jane began to help her.

He was glad that Mrs. Wood, or he supposed he should now think of her as Mama-in-Law, had had the foresight to suggest that Jane should come to them. He knew that Charlotte would miss her mother and sisters without their daily presence in her life, and having Jane here would provide Charlotte with familiar feminine company in their absence. Charlotte liked Jane, and it had been so helpful not needing to find someone on their own, particularly after their unexpected change in plans.

He exited their flat, closing the door behind him, and headed to the stables. He thought he would just use one of his and Charlotte’s horses today, rather than look for someone to drive him in the carriage when he was traveling alone. He would need to hire a coachman and footman for their trip to Leighton Hall. Adding it to the list in his head of things to do prior to the first of June, his steps picked up as he thought about the conversation that lay ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the brilliant Caffiend for beta-reading!


	17. A Frolic in the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John speaks with Mr. Tibbetts, the Plumptres get to know Jane, and the extended Plumptre family enjoys a family picnic. But John and Charlotte enjoy it in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is posting a day early because I'm going out of town for the weekend!

“Well, John, this certainly comes as a surprise, I must say. But I also realise that this was not something you had planned on happening, nor even expected.” Mr. Tibbetts sat forward, elbows on his desk and his hands steepled together as he thought about what John had just told him.

“No, sir, it was not. I would give you more notice if I possibly could, but I am sorry to say that my uncle’s health requires that we make the transition in a matter of weeks, not months.”

“I understand, son. I will manage somehow in your absence, but I had better begin looking immediately for another attorney to share the workload.”

“If I may, sir,” said John earnestly. “I have been thinking about this since my conversation with my uncle, and there are a few gentlemen from my class at law school who I believe might be suitable replacements. Shall I send out messages to see if they are available to meet with you?”

Mr. Tibbetts was pleased by John’s thoughtfulness. If he felt that one of the men John had in mind was a good fit, it would make this process much easier, since he would not have to start fresh in finding someone who would be suitable.

“Please do, John. I thank you for your prudence in already being prepared with potential candidates for me to consider. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

**

While John was speaking with James Tibbetts, Jane had been helping out Charlotte in any way that was needed. She began by dressing Charlotte’s hair, then planning for meals for the next several days and purchasing the food she would need to prepare them. Their noontime meal cooking on the stove, she sat down with Charlotte to go over what must be done prior to the move to Leighton Hall.

It took several hours to discuss everything, spanning over luncheon, which Charlotte insisted that they eat together. Jane felt strange eating at the table with her current mistress, as opposed to taking her meal separately, but Charlotte quickly put her at ease.

It was a daunting list, but Jane had never shied away from busyness and was confident that, working together with Charlotte and John, everything would be accomplished in good time. She was sweeping in the main room when the front door opened and John entered, greeting her as he returned from his meeting with Mr. Tibbetts. She directed him to the bedroom, where Charlotte was reading until his return.

Only a few moments passed before she heard Charlotte giggle and whisper something. Although she was trying not to eavesdrop, she could not help but hear what sounded like kissing, then John’s low voice murmuring something she could not make out.

Jane quietly set her broom aside, then called out to Charlotte. “Mrs. Plumptre, I need to visit a shop down the street. I should be back in about half an hour, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Jane,” she managed to say in between the laughs she was clearly trying to hold in.

Jane left the flat on the way to the errand she had just decided upon, smiling the whole while she was gone.

**

John and Charlotte took advantage of Jane’s absence to share open affection with one another, but they were mindful of her imminent return and so did not let it proceed into anything excessively passionate. After more than a few minutes of kisses and caresses, they spoke about their days.

“How did Mr. Tibbetts take your news?”

“He was sorry to hear that I was leaving, but he was very gracious about it, particularly considering that I could not give him more than a few weeks’ notice. He thought it agreeable to speak with my law school classmates, so I will be spending some time this afternoon composing and sending out messages to the ones I have identified as good candidates. It is my great hope that one of them will be an excellent fit for the practise.

“And how has your day been, my love?” he asked.

“Terribly busy, but our time was fruitful. We have an organised plan in place for the next three weeks. It will go far too quickly, I fear. I know that you are anxious to be with your uncle, as am I, but I will miss my family and this town. Perhaps not all of its members, but enough.”

John pulled Charlotte closer and put his forehead against hers. “Please know that I recognise the sacrifice you are making in agreeing to this move. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you.”

Charlotte tipped her head away and looked at John. “There is some sacrifice, yes. But there is also blessing and abundance and adventure and excitement ahead! And I am thankful that we will have the time with dear Uncle Arthur. He is truly a lovely man and I am fortunate to have the chance to know him.”

John pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s hair just as the front door opened, heralding Jane’s return.

“I had better get started on my messages. I need to compose a letter to Uncle Arthur as well. I have some questions that I am hoping to have answered before we arrive, and many more that I will be asking once we are there. I should like to get all of them down on paper so that they are not constantly swirling around in my head,” he said.

John moved away to the desk in the front room. Opening the drawer in front of him, he pulled out several sheets of paper, setting one on the blotter and the others to the side. He dipped his quill into his inkpot, then began to write.

The afternoon passed quietly, John writing his messages, the letter to Uncle Arthur, and notes on things he had been thinking about while Jane worked with as little noise as possible to prepare dinner. Charlotte had decided to read and do some embroidery in the bedroom so that she would neither be in John’s way nor be performing any noisy tasks when he needed to concentrate.

As it drew near to time for dinner, John’s missives were folded and sealed with wax, ready to be sent by messenger the next day. John was hoping for quick responses from all of the recipients.

After Jane had served them, John and Charlotte invited her to fill a plate for herself and join them. 

“Oh, ma’am, I am not sure I would be comfortable doing that.”

“Nonsense, Jane! It is only the three of us, and it would be silly for you to eat by yourself in the kitchen or take it back to your room when there is plenty of room for you here at the table with us,” said Charlotte as John nodded in agreement, a kind smile on his face that eased Jane’s concerns somewhat.

She had already felt odd about sitting with Charlotte for lunch earlier that day, but it had only been the two of them and they had been working, so that distracted her from the strangeness. Servants did not sit with their masters and mistresses. It just was not done. And yet Jane forgot to feel uneasy once a few minutes had passed and the Plumptres had engaged her in conversation.

Charlotte discovered that Jane was one of ten children, with eight older siblings and one younger. Most of them had gone into service and were at homes and estates throughout England, although a few were in trade. Their father had passed ten years earlier, and their mother now lived with Jane’s eldest brother and his wife in Shropshire. She had not seen most of them in seven years, since she first entered service as a scullery maid, then as a kitchen maid, at a Gloucestershire estate at the age of eleven. Mrs. Carter, now the Plumptres’ cook, had also been employed at the same estate at the time as their cook.

Jane was a hard worker and learned well. When Mrs. Carter accepted the position at Woodridge four years earlier in order to be closer to her sister and had discovered that Margaret Wood also planned to hire an additional kitchen maid, she requested that they consider Jane for the position. Margaret was only too happy to accept Mrs. Carter’s recommendation, and Jane had been with them since. After a year as a kitchen maid at Woodridge, one of the Woods’ housemaids had left to get married, and Jane was offered the position, which she happily accepted.

The Woods had always been pleased with Jane’s sunny disposition and impeccable work ethic, and when she began a year later to take on such tasks as helping the ladies of the house with their clothing and their hair, she showed an aptitude for that as well.

Charlotte had not known Jane’s story before this day. Part of her felt embarrassed that she had not asked her previously, but she also knew that many servants would have felt uncomfortable sharing personal information about themselves with their master or mistress. Still, she resolved to be more intentional about engaging staff in meaningful conversation when the opportunity arose, for those who seemed amenable to it.

Jane quickly cleaned up the dishes after dinner was over, then was dismissed until morning, going to her room that the landlady had agreed to rent to the Plumptres for the remainder of the month.

As he closed the door behind the departing maid, John turned to Charlotte with a mischievous expression. He advanced on her with a gleam in his eyes.

“Ah, alone at last!” he said as he placed his hands on Charlotte’s hips and drew her to him.

She slid her hands up his chest and then clasped them behind his neck. “I would tease you about that comment, since we have been together nearly non-stop for the five days previous to this one. But I must confess that I have missed you today, silly as that may be.”

“I do not find it at all silly. I missed you as well.”

He dipped his head and nibbled on her ear, then kissed his way softly from there across her jaw and over to her mouth, where he captured her lips with his own.

“It has been _days_ since I have had you,” he murmured against her mouth.

Charlotte laughed softly. “It has not been days, merely hours.”

“And the hours have stretched out like an eternity.”

“Are you going to keep talking about how deprived you are of my affections, or are you prepared to do something about it?” she asked with a saucy smile, brows raised in challenge. “I seem to recall something about you ravishing me…”

He growled and lifted her with one arm under her knees and one behind her back as she laughed, then she set her mouth to work on his neck as he rapidly carried her to their bed.

“I am well prepared to do something about it, wife. Over. And over. And over again,” he vowed as he set her down, his hands making quick work of the buttons on the back of her dress.

Charlotte looked at him over her shoulder as he slid her dress off of her. “I shall hold you to that, husband.”

**

Sunday, the 11th of May, was spent as previous Sundays for the last several months had been spent. They attended church in the morning with Charlotte’s family, then went back to Woodridge for the afternoon. Jane traveled with them for the service and then visited with Mrs. Carter and the other staff, looking around for ways in which to be useful, despite being told by both Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Wood that she should enjoy some time off, away from tasks.

Charlotte found it curious how the day felt both quite the same and very different from previous Sundays. They had sat in church with her family, had eaten a meal with them, and had spent some time in leisure pursuits during the course of the afternoon. But she had traveled with John and Jane in their carriage, instead of in the Wood family’s carriage. And she would be leaving with John at the end of the day, instead of saying goodbye to him while longing to go with him. Jane, of course, would accompany them then as well.

And in a few weeks, things would be vastly different from all she had ever known.

**

The next week passed quickly as John returned to his office and Charlotte worked with Jane to prepare for the move to Leighton Hall. Charlotte had already known how dependable and diligent Jane was, but working closely together with her to prepare for her own household had helped her to understand in a new way how valuable it was to have someone like Jane on one’s staff. She would be sorry to see her leave when it was time for her to return to her position at Woodridge.

John had heard back from all three of his classmates, and all three men were willing to meet with Mr. Tibbetts. He was very pleased by the response. He was confident that Mr. Tibbetts would find one of them quite suitable as his replacement. Messages were exchanged and arrangements were made for them to meet with James Tibbetts on Tuesday next.

He had also heard from Uncle Arthur, who provided him with thorough responses to his questions, although he did not recognise the hand in which they were written. Likely Arthur had dictated the answers to his valet, or possibly the butler. As far as he knew, his uncle did not have a secretary.

But the responses answered all of his most pressing questions, and he set to some planning of his own based upon what he had discovered. He was not anxious to uproot everything upon his arrival, but he wanted to discuss some possible additions to estate operations with Arthur once they had gotten a bit settled in.

On Thursday of that week, Charlotte was pleasantly surprised by Eleanor, who had persuaded her father to take her to town for the express purpose of visiting. He had gone on to see to some business affairs after ensuring that Charlotte was home to receive her and exchanging greetings with the new Mrs. Plumptre.

The two women sat in the cosy chairs near the fireplace, which was crackling with a blaze owing to the chilly, rainy morning outside. They caught up on a few bits of news while Jane prepared the tea tray and brought it to them.

Once the tea had been brought, Eleanor looked at Charlotte with a broad smile, the gleam in her eyes that had been evident since she came into the flat brightening even further.

“Eleanor, I am betrothed!”

Charlotte leaned over to Eleanor and pulled her into an embrace, overjoyed by her friend’s happy news and ebullient countenance.

“Oh, I am so thrilled for you, Eleanor!” She hugged her tightly, her eyes welling up with joyful tears. “How did it happen?”

“Daniel asked my father for my hand yesterday. Then he paid a call upon me in the afternoon, and requested that we take a turn about the garden, which Mama approved as long as we were not gone overly long.

“I was sure that he was about to make me an offer. But he talked about the animals on his estate, the party that Isabella Hawkins is having next month, books he has enjoyed recently, even the weather and the interesting rocks he was spotting on the path! I finally had to tell him that Mama would be expecting us back soon. He turned to me with a look that I can only describe as panicked.

“So I-oh, you will never believe it. I put my hands on either side of his face, I stood on my tiptoes, and Charlotte, I kissed him!”

“Eleanor Easton! I am impressed!” cried Charlotte.

Eleanor’s cheeks were pink, but she looked pleased with herself. “After that, the words came quite easily to him, and by the time we returned to the house, we were betrothed!”

“I could not be more delighted for you. I believe that you and Mr. Addicott will be deliriously happy together! Have you selected a wedding date?”

Eleanor’s face fell a little at her question. “I have, and my only sadness is that we will not be able to marry before you and Mr. Plumptre must leave. The first bann cannot be read until the 25th of May. But by this time next month, I will be Mrs. Daniel Addicott.”

Charlotte did not let her smile falter, although she was disappointed to realise that she would not be able to see Eleanor marry her beau. “My heart will be with you, even if I cannot be here physically. You are my dearest friend, Eleanor, and it brings me such joy to know that you have found a man who is worthy of your love.”

The two spent several hours together, enjoying the tea and cake that Jane had brought them and fitting in as much conversation and laughter as they could. They knew that times like this would be a rare occurrence in the future.

When Mr. Easton came to take Eleanor home, the two hugged one another tightly, not letting go until Eleanor’s father gave a discreet cough to hurry them along. Charlotte realised that he had been waiting for some time, so she did not fault him for the polite reminder.

**

The next Sunday unfolded much as the one previously, but the fine weather of the last three days led to the family taking a picnic meal out in the gardens on a grassy expanse of lawn, nearby trees providing enough shade to keep them from being overly warm. Mrs. Carter had sent them out laden with roast chicken, ham, salads, rolls, stewed fruit to top their plain biscuits, and a cheesecake, with tea and lemonade to drink. They laid out blankets under the trees and feasted on the food, then rested in the breeze for a little while, until Anne and Louisa began urging everyone to get up and play games with them.

A lively, competitive game of Hide and Seek ensued, with even Thomas and Margaret persuaded to join in. The shrieks and yells of those hiding could be heard whenever one was discovered. When it was John’s turn to seek, he took his time after finding Charlotte’s hiding place until he heard Louisa call out, “John, are you still playing?” Sheepishly, he continued his quest, finding Louisa next as she had given away her location with her voice.

As soon as that game was done, Thomas and Edmund began setting up for a game of bowls. John and Charlotte excused themselves to go for a walk, wishing to take advantage of the weather and enjoy the expansive grounds of Woodridge. Charlotte took hold of John’s arm as they set up, but her hand slipped down to take hold of his once they were out of sight of the others.

As they walked, Charlotte pointed out more of her favourite places to John. He in turn told her about some of the spots he wanted to show her at Leighton Hall while she eagerly asked questions about their new home.

They reached a more heavily wooded point in the path, and it brought to John’s mind their drive into the woods a few weeks previous.

“Do you recall our drive on this path, and our interlude in the midst of it?”

Charlotte blushed but smiled widely. “You made it quite unforgettable for me!”

John looked at Charlotte intently before pulling her against him. “That was the closest I came to attempting to persuade you to anticipate our vows. I wanted you so badly, and I could perfectly picture you spread out on the ground, clothes and hair in disarray. I wanted to lay you down and bury myself inside you.” John’s voice had dropped to a low register as he spoke.

Charlotte’s heart thumped at his words. She knew that she would have made no objection if he had made the suggestion in the heat of the moment. She vividly recalled his fingers brushing lightly against her breasts, the warmth of his mouth against the flushed skin just above her neckline, and the sweet ache between her thighs during the passionate encounter.

She glanced at the woods around them, searching for particular landmarks before she took John’s hand and began to tug him hurriedly along. She stopped at one point and peered at the bushes to the left side of the path, then pulled towards what appeared to be a solid hedge there. As they got closer, John could see that there was a gap in the branches that wove back and forth so that no clear opening could be seen from the main path. Charlotte pulled him through with obvious familiarity.

They emerged into a clearing that was surrounded by trees and bushes. Sunlight dappled the thick grass underneath their feet through the breaks in the tree branches above, beaming down into the secluded spot enough to allow wildflowers to grow in clumps around the edges of the grassy carpet. There was a stream nearby that provided the sound of water bubbling over the rocks on the streambed, and birdsong could be heard in the trees above. The sunshine filled the spot with enough warmth to make it cosy.

“I used to come here often as a girl when I wanted to be by myself. I do not think anyone else even knows it is here,” she said quietly in the hushed space of the clearing.

“It is an enchanting place. I can see why it would appeal to you. Thank you for sharing it with me. I am honoured,” said John, wrapping his arms around Charlotte’s waist.

“I would imagine that we could stay here as long as we wished, with no interruptions whatsoever,” said Charlotte, her hands slowly sliding up John’s chest.

“Did you have anything in mind that we should do while we’re here, sweet girl?” asked John, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Mm-hmm,” murmured Charlotte just before her mouth reached John’s ear, her teeth nibbling on the lobe.

John’s fingers curled into Charlotte’s sides at the feel of her mouth on his ear. He swallowed hard as her mouth moved down his neck, then he drew her down upon the grass with him. As she laid down on her back, he propped himself up on an elbow next to her and leaned down to kiss her, his free hand stroking from her neck down her shoulders, breasts, stomach, and hips. His hand reached down and began to bunch up Charlotte’s skirts, pulling them up nearly to her waist. Then he reached underneath and immediately slid two fingers into her, finding her wet and open for him already.

He hummed with pleasure at his finding and began to stroke her, his thumb rubbing the little nub between her legs as his fingers plunged in and out. Almost immediately, Charlotte’s hands flew to his trousers and began to rapidly unbutton them as her hips thrust into John’s hand. When the flap of his trousers opened, his length fell into her palm and she gave him a squeeze that made him groan.

He quickly shifted over so that he was lying between her legs as their kisses became more heated. He shoved her skirts up out of the way, then rubbed his shaft against her, the delicious friction causing each of them to press harder against one another. 

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered back, each feeling as if further conversation was an invasion in this place of romantic solitude.

John lined up his shaft and sank it into Charlotte’s heat in one hard thrust, both of them moaning as he seated himself completely within her.

He held still for a moment, holding off on further movement while he enjoyed the feeling of being in her warm body again. He soon became conscious of the hardness of the ground under his knees and knew that it could not feel comfortable on Charlotte’s back, although she had not complained.

Laying his body completely down against hers, he wrapped his arms underneath her shoulders and said, “Put your legs around me.” Charlotte complied, and John rolled them so that he was now laying on his back, with Charlotte above him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Put your hands on my chest and use them to help lift yourself up with your legs and lower yourself back down on me,” he instructed her, recalling some of his educational reading. His hands went to her hips to help her with the initial movements.

Charlotte felt self-conscious at first, but as she hesitantly began to move, then started to experiment with sliding her hips forward and back in addition to up and down, the pleasurable sensations she was experiencing overcame her reticence in behaving so lustfully. There was a fantastic friction in the movements, and she knew that John was feeling it, too, as his fingers gripped her hips harder.

The outdoor setting was arousing, too, and Charlotte felt wanton in all the best ways as she rode John, her movements increasing in speed as the tension built within her body. She was rubbing herself against him, moving herself back and forth more than up and down by now. John took hold of her hips firmly, beginning to thrust upward from underneath her, stimulating her in a completely different way. 

It was enough to bring her to a surprisingly quick and powerful release, Charlotte crying out as the waves of pleasure rolled through her body. The feel of Charlotte clenching around him so tightly caused John to immediately follow her, continuing to thrust until he was done emptying himself into her body.

Charlotte collapsed on top of John’s chest as his thrusts subsided, and his arms wrapped around her, one around her waist and the other sliding up to gently caress her back as she breathed heavily into his neck. This was their fastest and roughest coupling yet, but it felt perfect and right.

They lay entwined together for several minutes, John still within her body. At last, their breathing slowed and Charlotte raised her head, looking down at her husband. “That was a fantastic idea,” she said with a smirk. “I do so hope we will be able to find some secluded places at Leighton Hall, too.”

“Oh, I can already think of two or three,” John assured her with a grin of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Caffiend, for your continued support and beta-reading!


	18. A Picnic in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte continue their preparations and enjoy a lunchtime picnic, and Charlotte sees Lady Torrington once more.

Time was passing even more rapidly as the day of the Plumptres’ departure drew nearer. This was to be John’s last full week of work, although he would be there for two days of the week following. Charlotte would be working with Jane to ensure everything was being packed into trunks for the move, as well as fitting in a few calls, one of which was to be to Mr. Tibbetts at the office.

Charlotte knew that he would be busy meeting the potential candidates to replace John on Tuesday, so on Monday she took the short walk to the offices of Tibbetts and Plumptre, the basket in her hand containing a cold lunch for her and John, with enough food for Mr. Tibbetts to join them if he wished.

As she drew near to Page’s Bookshop, she heard the bell jingle as the door opened, and out emerged Lady Torrington, a footman behind her, laden down with books. She glanced around her as she walked towards her carriage and spotted Charlotte a few paces away.

“Mrs. Plumptre! How delightful to see you!” she exclaimed, holding both hands out to Charlotte, who set down the basket so that the countess could take hold of her hands.

“I thank you, my lady! It is wonderful to see you as well,” said Charlotte as she curtsied. 

“Rumours have reached my ears that you are relocating. Is this true?”

“It is, my lady. I had hoped to call upon you later this week, if I may.”

“I insist that you join me for afternoon tea. Is Thursday convenient?” she asked.

Charlotte had hoped to pay a fifteen-minute call, or perhaps even thirty minutes. She had certainly not expected to be invited to share afternoon tea with the countess and was a little flustered by the invitation, but she quickly recovered.

“I would be honoured, my lady. Yes, I am free on Thursday.”

“Splendid! I look forward to it. But I see from that basket that you have plans, presumably across the street, so I will keep you no longer. Please do give my regards to your husband.”

“I will, my lady. Thank you.”

Charlotte picked up the basket and crossed the street as Lady Torrington was handed into her carriage, the books settled onto the seat next to her in case she wished to peruse them during the ride back to Lavender Manor. She rarely did so as the movement of even such a smooth carriage as this one was not conducive to reading. She smiled as she looked out the window to see the young woman walk up the steps to the law office. They were a lovely young couple, and she looked forward to speaking further with Charlotte on Thursday and getting to know her better.

Charlotte reached the top of the steps and opened the door, entering the outer office area and noting that John’s door was closed. He was likely finishing with a client meeting. She could see that the door to Mr. Tibbetts’ office was open and asked one of the clerks if she might speak with him for a minute. The clerk disappeared into his office but quickly reemerged, followed by James Tibbetts.

“Mrs. Plumptre! This is an unexpected pleasure!” he said. “Would you like to come into my office?”

She followed him as she answered.

“Hello, Mr. Tibbetts. I had hoped to have an opportunity to speak with you, so I decided to bring lunch to John rather than have it sent with him this morning. There’s plenty to share, if you would like to join us.”

“That is very kind of you, but I have a meeting in half an hour, and Caroline sent along a delicious lunch for me today. But I thank you. I understand you wished to speak with me. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is wonderful, Mr. Tibbetts. That is why I wanted to see you. I wanted to thank you for helping me and my family. And I suppose I should thank you for hiring John in the first place! He was such a wonderful support to all of us through the legal process, and then he became so much more than that to me. I will always be grateful to you for the part you played in all of it.”

“It was my genuine pleasure to do what I could to assist you, Mrs. Plumptre. While I am sorry to lose such a wonderful partner in John, I know that he will be in good hands with you and am quite sure that the two of you will be very happy in your new life.”

“Will you please give Mrs. Tibbetts my best? We hope that you will bring her and your children to visit us at Leighton Hall once we have settled.”

“We would be delighted, Mrs. Plumptre! We will look forward to your invitation when you are ready for us.”

Charlotte extended her hand to Mr. Tibbetts. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it in a courtly manner.

She turned to leave Mr. Tibbetts’ office as John’s door opened, and she saw him follow a man out of his office. He had not yet noticed her standing over by Mr. Tibbetts’ door, and she took advantage of the time to study him. 

He was truly the most handsome man she had ever seen; but more than that, there was a light about him, a goodness that she thought she must have noticed that very first time she met him, judging by how much she opened up to him. It could have been disastrous had he not been a man of respect and ethics and empathy who would keep her confidence. And even if his position here had required his confidentiality, he may well have chosen to judge and disbelieve her as so many others had. But she had known, even then, that she was safe with him.

He turned then and saw her, his eyes lighting up with affection and pleasure.

“Darling! I see you have come to bring me sustenance, and also food,” he teased.

“John!” she chided him quietly, but with a smile on her face.

“Shall we eat in my office?” he asked.

“It is a lovely day outside. Why do you not take your lunch and have a picnic at Carshalton Park?” suggested Mr. Tibbetts. 

“Are you sure I should be gone that long, sir?” John asked.

“You have been working very hard to leave me in good stead next week. You should take the time and enjoy a break with your bride. There is nothing here that cannot wait.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tibbetts. In that case, I believe we will take you up on that recommendation.”

John took the basket from Charlotte and extended his arm to her. They left the office and headed toward Carshalton Park, a 15-minute walk away. They talked about nothing of consequence, simply enjoying one another’s company and the sunny weather that came with a light breeze.

They spread out the blanket that Jane had fortuitously thought to include and Charlotte laid out the meal of cold meats, cheese, bread with butter, and fruit. Jane had sent lemonade to drink. After the two were sated, they packed up their impromptu picnic and took a short walk through the park to the Grotto. 

As John had only been in Carshalton for a few years, he was not familiar with its history. Charlotte shared with him what she knew as they walked.

“The Grotto was built in 1724 by the Scawen family. They were a prominent local family who owned quite a lot of land in this area at the time. It is thought by some that they built their Grotto in order to compete with the hermitage that the Fellowes family built at Carshalton House.”

“I do not recall hearing of the Scawen family,” said John.

“No, you would not have. They lost their fortune in the 1770s and had to sell their property, including their estates.”

“That was a sad turn for their family.”

“It was indeed.”

As they approached, John could see griffins incorporated into the intricate iron gates at the front. The structure had been constructed above springs and the water flowed underneath it. The Grotto itself had been made to look like a sea cave, with glass decorating the circular opening and shells and coral inlaid in its plastered walls. Marble tiles were on the floor, and there was a statue of Neptune inside.

John quite liked the fanciful nature of the structure. He found it enchanting. He also noticed that they were alone and that there was a darkened corner inside the opening of the Grotto. He tugged Charlotte into the secluded interior, set the basket down, and pulled her to him with an arm about her waist. He tilted her chin up with his other hand and peppered kisses across her mouth, cheeks, nose, and eyelids. 

When his mouth neared Charlotte’s again, she captured it with her own, deepening the kiss as she gripped his shoulders. It was a pleasurable few minutes in the Grotto, but soon Charlotte put an end to their time there.

“Should you not be returning to work soon?” she asked with a rueful smile.

“I suppose I should,” said John with a sigh. “But I would rather stay here with you.”

“As would I, my love. But duty calls, and I know that you are too conscientious to cast it aside for long.”

They exited the Grotto, John once again carrying the basket as they walked back to the office. Charlotte told him about her encounter with Lady Torrington that morning and her invitation for afternoon tea. He was pleased but not entirely surprised that Lady Torrington had taken to her so well.

“She sends her regards,” said Charlotte.

“Please do give her mine when you see her on Thursday. I will always remember our time together at her ball. It was where we first kissed, after all.”

“As if I would ever forget,” said Charlotte, smiling up at him as they neared Tibbetts and Plumptre. She said goodbye to John outside, her husband raising her hand to his lips and kissing it as he held her gaze. She blushed like a young maiden at his attention, amazed that a kiss on the hand could still make her flush after all that they had done together. 

**

Tuesday had been a fruitful day of meetings at Tibbetts and Plumptre. Mr. Tibbetts ended up liking all three of the men whom John had recommended, but he was obviously unable to hire all of them. He was a decisive man, however, and by the next morning, he had chosen Miles Wrentmore to be the man who would be filling John’s shoes. Wrentmore had made plans to stay in the area for a few days as he had an aunt about five miles away. He was able to come in to the office on Wednesday to spend the day with John and James, which went a long way toward John feeling more comfortable about leaving Mr. Tibbetts.

Thursday was another lovely day, and Charlotte woke with excitement for her call to Lady Torrington that afternoon. She worked with Jane through the morning on packing and preparations, then changed and had Jane arrange her hair in a special style for her visit. John had made the arrangements for their carriage to be available to her. He had previously hired a coachman and footmen for their use, both during their remaining time in Carshalton and to go with them to Leighton Hall as part of their new staff. Uncle Arthur did not do much traveling these days, so he no longer had coachmen of his own.

Charlotte smoothed her gloved hands over the green sprigged muslin of her skirts. The dress she had chosen for the visit was one of her nicest day dresses. She felt her nerves in her fidgeting and in the tightness of her stomach. She liked Lady Torrington but was not sure what this visit would entail nor how they would fill the time.

The carriage came to a stop and the footman hopped down to lower the steps, then opened the door and handed Charlotte out of the carriage. She noted that the front doors of Lavender Manor were already thrown wide open, a footman waiting there to escort her to the countess. She walked up the expansive steps and followed him through the manor to the back, where French doors to a terrace were standing open. 

Lady Torrington was sitting on a cushioned outdoor sofa, not with her spine upright and proper as was expected of ladies of her stature, but leaning back in relaxed repose. She was enjoying the glorious view before her. The warm weather they had already experienced that spring had resulted in a profusion of flowers blooming in the stepped gardens that began at the edge of the terrace. Charlotte could see alliums, bellflowers, lilacs, freesia, sunflowers, and lilies, from her quick perusal as she approached the countess, who stood as Charlotte drew near and curtsied to her. 

Lady Torrington extended her hands to Charlotte as she had previously and clasped Charlotte’s warmly. “Mrs. Plumptre, I am so glad that you are able to join me today! Might I call you Charlotte? It is such a lovely name.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“And let us dispense with ceremony. I am Frances. If you feel you must maintain some formality in your address of me, you may call me Mrs. Forrester, but you may also call me Frances if you wish.”

“Oh, I do not think I could be quite that informal, but I will abide by your wishes and call you Mrs. Forrester.”

“Thank you, my dear. I am quite comfortable with informality, you know,” she said with an engaging smile. “It used to vex my dear Richard when he first met me. He was quite a stuffed shirt then, but it wasn’t long before he came to love that side of me. He said I had a gift for putting people at ease.”

“You really do, La- Mrs. Forrester. I particularly wanted to call upon you to thank you for what you did for me and my family in inviting us to your ball and for being such a gracious and welcoming hostess. You made us feel comfortable as soon as we arrived, and we were able to cast off our worries and enjoy the evening. We noticed a sharp uptick in invitations for our family afterward as well. I know that it was your influence and example that led others to accept us again. We have been so grateful for your friendship these last months.”

“It has been my absolute pleasure, Charlotte, and such a joy to know all of you. I hope that it is not indiscreet of me to tell you that I had heard the rumours about you and that scoundrel, but I never believed them. Gossips rarely have their facts straight and usually prefer to make their stories as salacious as possible.

“And when I heard Mr. Plumptre defend you to those young ladies at the bookshop, I knew that I must have both him and your family as my guests. He reminded me very much of my Richard with the conviction and passion in the words he spoke in defence of you and your family. It was nearly enough to make me swoon, although I would not actually do anything so ridiculous!”

Charlotte was confused by her words. She had no doubt that rumours were flying about in every direction in the autumn, but she had not heard about the incident to which Mrs. Forrester referred. “What young ladies at the bookshop?”

“Oh, dear. He must not have told you because he did not wish to make you uncomfortable, nor did he wish to boast about his own chivalry. There was a group of young women who were speaking unkindly about you, I am sorry to say. Mr. Plumptre and I were both there and growing increasingly incensed, but as I was opening my mouth to chastise them, Mr. Plumptre delivered them a blistering yet eloquent set-down. They could do nothing but hang their heads in shame in response. It was one of the noblest actions I have ever witnessed!”

Charlotte had mixed feelings. She was embarrassed that Lady Torrington had borne witness to such nasty behaviour on the part of the women. But she was elated to hear that, early in their acquaintance, John had defended her so passionately. She would never have known about it if not for this conversation. She was proud of him and pleased by his gallantry. She also felt stirrings of desire for him that were evident in the tightening of her belly and breasts and the ache between her thighs.

She had not spoken since Lady Torrington had finished telling her what John had done. She was not quite sure what to say in response and had allowed herself to become lost in thought. Lady Torrington, ever the consummate hostess, swiftly changed the subject to safer ground.

“Charlotte, would you like to take a turn about the garden? Our tea tray will be brought out in half an hour, but there are some wonderful sights that nature has provided for us, should you wish to walk with me in the meantime.”

“That sounds lovely, Mrs. Forrester. I have always loved our garden at Woodridge and would enjoy seeing yours.”

Arm in arm, the two ladies set off from the terrace and were soon lost in discussion of flowers, follies, and water features, of which there were several in the spacious gardens on the grounds. 

**

Charlotte had enjoyed a lovely afternoon with Lady Torrington, who had proven to be a wonderful conversationalist. She did not stick to only those polite topics that society had somehow deemed to be the only appropriate ones, and it made for much more interesting discussion. The tea itself had been delicious, and after it was over, the two women had taken a longer walk through the grounds so that Charlotte could see some of the features that they had discussed.

She returned home to find that it was nearly time for supper. Her appetite was diminished due to the plentiful food at Lady Torrington’s, but she ate enough so that Jane would not be insulted. The maid tidied up the dishes from supper, then Charlotte dismissed her for the remainder of the evening.

John was sitting at the desk, finishing up a letter, when Charlotte approached him from behind and put her hands upon his shoulders.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“Nothing that cannot wait,” he said, turning his head to smile at her before turning back to set aside his writing materials.

Her hands stroked along his neck and up into his hair, carding through his golden curls and rubbing circles into his scalp as he closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into her hands.

“That feels divine,” he said.

Charlotte bent down to whisper in his ear. “I can make you feel even more transcendent.”

John turned his face to capture her mouth as his hand came up behind her neck, holding her to him.

“That is an irresistible offer, my love,” he said, rising from his chair and taking her offered hand to follow her into their bedroom.

She began undressing him with a speed and urgency greater than typical, her mouth moving over him, pressing hot kisses wherever she bared his skin. It was highly erotic, but he did not know what was driving her to work with such exigency.

“Sweet girl, I am certainly not complaining, but your need seems acute this evening. Is everything alright?”

Charlotte pushed him back onto the bed, and he reclined with his arms behind his head, a position that emphasised the muscles in his arms and stretched out his long, lean, naked body. It only increased Charlotte’s desperation to make love to him.

“Does something have to be wrong for me to have an overwhelming desire for my husband?” she asked as her hands worked quickly at her own clothing, pulling the ties on the back of her gown and letting it fall to the floor as her hands moved to her stays.

“No, it absolutely does not. In fact, I delight in it _whenever_ you wish to seduce me,” he answered with a wolfish grin.

Charlotte’s cheeks pinked at his choice of words, but her lust to possess him merely increased.

“Lady Torrington told me today about how you defended my virtue and my honour in a bookshop, many months ago, right after we had met. You were so noble and courageous, and you did not even really know me, but you involved yourself when you could have stayed quiet, and you risked your own reputation in order to defend mine. It is the most gallant thing I have ever heard!” she said, finishing as she was completely bare. 

John lowered his head, then looked back up her through his thick lashes, looking mildly chagrined. “I am sorry that she told you. I have no wish for you to be reminded of a time in your life that was unpleasant.”

Charlotte straddled his legs and leaned forward, taking his face between her hands. She kissed him tenderly, touched by his concern for her feelings and any embarrassment or distress the mention may have caused her.

“The event that started it all was unpleasant, but it is the time when I met you, and can therefore only be part of my memories as the beginning of the greatest joy in my life.”

John searched her face to see if she was hiding any hurt, but he did not see any.

Charlotte continued to speak. “When she told me, I could picture you coming to a passionate defence of me. I am embarrassed to say that I immediately felt a lust for you that was evident in my body. I believe I managed to hide it well from the countess, but all I wanted to do was take my leave of her, fetch you from work, and bring you back here to ravish you. You should be proud of my self-control, husband," she finished with a playful grin. 

John had felt himself hardening beneath her as she spoke. Now he was rigid and aching for her.

“I am very proud of you indeed, wife, but if I am not inside of you directly, I fear I may expire.”

Charlotte laughed as she raised herself up, reaching underneath to grasp hold of him. She watched his face as she slowly slid down, not stopping until the backs of her thighs rested against him. He was so beautiful, and she could not believe that he was hers. She loved him so.

Charlotte was much more assured now than when she had ridden him previously, and it showed in her movements. John’s strong, confident hands moved over her body gracefully, sliding over her hips, stroking her nipples, pulling her down by the shoulders to kiss her, and twining through her hair as his hands loosened her pins. 

He knew that he was not going to last long. The combination of Charlotte’s ardour for him, the words that she had spoken, and the feel of her wet warmth enveloping his length were rapidly driving him towards completion. As Charlotte sat back up to ride him with even more zeal, one of his hands played with her breasts while the other slid down to stroke her highly sensitive bud just above where they were joined.

The pillows propped up behind John afforded him a view of his manhood disappearing into her delectable body, and he bit his lip to try to hold off his release a little longer. He did not have long to wait, as Charlotte’s body soon began to shake with the force of her climax, her hot channel grasping him and sending him over the edge into his own completion.

Charlotte slumped onto John’s chest as his hands came up to stroke her hair and her back. After a few minutes, she slid over next to John, pulled up the covers from the foot of the bed, then lay down and wrapped an arm around him. They fell asleep in one another’s arms and did not wake until the light streamed over the top of the curtains the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and adulation to my dearest Caffiend for beta-reading!


	19. A Difficult Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and John bring their time in Carshalton to a close.

The end of May arrived and, with it, a host of changes for John and Charlotte. The majority of their belongings had been packed into trunks and carted away to travel ahead of them to Leighton Hall. Each had a portmanteau and valise with what they would need for the next few days, but everything else was on its way to the estate.

Charlotte had so enjoyed having Jane with her that she had asked her mother if she might offer her a permanent position as her lady’s maid. Margaret had not seemed surprised by the question and had been anticipating that very thing happening. She had given Charlotte her blessing to proceed.

Jane had been astonished to be offered such a high-ranking position at the age of only eighteen, but when Charlotte told her how much she had valued her assistance and would like her to consider the position, she blushed and accepted it with enthusiasm. She had said her goodbyes to everyone on their last Sunday in Carshalton. 

Mrs. Carter had been particularly emotional, despite doing her very best to maintain her composure. She had kept Jane with her for as much of the afternoon as she could, and she held her tightly before sending her back to the flat with John and Charlotte.

“Now you be sure and write to me, every week, do you understand? I want to hear all about your new home and the other servants and how you like being a lady’s maid,” she had told her.

“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Carter. I will miss you dearly!” Jane told her.

“Go on with you now. It wouldn’t do to keep your mistress’ carriage waiting,” she said a bit brusquely.

Jane knew that she was trying to remain stoic. She leaned in and kissed the woman on the cheek, squeezed her hand, and left the house for the ride back with John and Charlotte.

Now it was several days later, and John and Charlotte were at Woodridge, Jane having chosen to travel with their belongings on Tuesday so that she could put everything away for Charlotte and begin to learn the layout of Leighton Hall before her mistress' arrival. The Plumptres had traveled in their carriage late that afternoon, after John had finished at the office, to stay with Charlotte’s family for the next few days.

Margaret had been thrilled to have her daughter under her roof once more, even for just three nights. She was also happy for the opportunity to get to know her son-in-law a bit more during their stay. She spoiled them both shamelessly, as did Mrs. Carter, preparing some of Charlotte’s favorite foods and evidently having asked John his as well. The two of them enjoyed walks throughout Woodridge’s gardens and forest, as well as exhilarating idylls in a few secluded spots that Charlotte recalled.

Mrs. Wood had considered having a party to send them off, but she decided that it would be too trying for John and Charlotte with their departure looming. A mid-week party might not be well-attended, either, and those who could not attend would be regretful.

In the end, she invited the Eastons and the Addicotts, family of Eleanor’s betrothed Daniel, for dinner on Wednesday evening. They enjoyed Mrs. Carter’s outstanding cooking and a lively conversation with a lot of laughter.

After dinner, the men all went outside to see the Plumptres’ horses and examine their new carriage. Mr. Easton had been considering replacing the family carriage, and Daniel was also looking for a conveyance for him and Eleanor to use once they set up their household.

Margaret led the ladies to the drawing room, but she soon suggested that Charlotte and Eleanor enjoy a walk in the garden in the mild spring evening air. She knew that the women would appreciate the opportunity for some time together, and Charlotte appreciated her thoughtfulness and sensitivity in making the suggestion.

The two strolled arm in arm through the gardens, talking about Eleanor and Daniel’s plans and what Charlotte knew of Leighton Hall. They approached one of the stone benches and sat down together. There was a pause, then Eleanor cleared her throat and spoke.

“I have been wanting to ask you about something, now that my own wedding is approaching. I know about the marriage bed and what to expect, but I could not ask my mother what it is actually like. She was already clearly mortified. But I must confess that I am somewhat anxious.”

Charlotte smiled dreamily at Eleanor, which gave her friend an idea of the answer.

“It is lovely, and thrilling, and sometimes it’s nearly overwhelming. I feel so much closer to John now than I did before we were married, and part of that is the physical closeness during our times of being intimate with one another. It is not simply something to be endured, but there can, and should, be immense enjoyment in it.

“I will tell you what my mother told me, because it is something that has been so helpful to me: the two of you must talk about what you like and what you want. Yes, it will feel awkward at first. But it will get easier, and there is no way of knowing what the other one thinks about such matters if you do not talk about it. It is worth the temporary embarrassment for a much richer experience.”

Eleanor turned pink as she listened to Charlotte and had a contemplative look on her face, but she did not speak.

“Do you...desire one another?” asked Charlotte, unsure if she was overstepping with her question.

Eleanor’s blush deepened, but she looked at Charlotte as she answered, “Very much so. Self-control has been...challenging at times. I can hardly wait to be married to him!”

Charlotte laughed at her friend’s lack of reticence in answering. “I completely understand! And if that is the case, it is a wonderful place to start. Talk to Daniel, and make sure he talks to you, and do not be ashamed about enjoying it. That’s how it should be. Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

Eleanor just smiled mischievously at Charlotte.

**

Thursday, the 29th of May, was a beautiful, sunny day. There was a lovely breeze that kept the temperature from feeling too hot. It was John and Charlotte’s last full day in town, and the family had decided to have one last picnic. The servants were invited, too, and enjoyed the holiday. Mrs. Carter had insisted on preparing the food herself, but she was at last persuaded to take some time out of the kitchen to come out and enjoy the feast and time with the family. Everyone played games together after the meal was finished, and it was a merry atmosphere.

Charlotte’s and John’s hearts were full when they went to bed that evening. Their lovemaking that night was quiet yet passionate, with an underlying current of bittersweetness. Charlotte curled herself around John and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair and stroking her back until she fell asleep.

John knew that Charlotte was trying not to think about tomorrow and being parted from her loved ones and all that was familiar to her to take on the position of mistress of a large estate. He was sure that, in addition to the sadness of the parting pressing in on her, she was probably also feeling daunted by taking on a role that she had not expected for some time. If he had purchased a home of their own at the end of the year as he had planned, it would have likely been a little smaller than Woodridge, and far more manageable in her estimation.

Leighton Hall was quite a bit larger, and although the estate and its management were somewhat familiar to him, it was all going to be new to Charlotte. He had every confidence that she would rise to the occasion magnificently and would learn quickly, but she would not feel that way until she had actually stepped into the role and proven herself.

John lay quietly in the still night, listening to Charlotte’s even breaths and smoothing his hand over her back periodically. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for them both. He was filled with gratitude that Charlotte was willing to take this step with him, and still a little stunned that he had won her affections in the first place. He would never stop marvelling at his good fortune in being married to her. Excitement for their new adventure was running through his veins, too, and it was thoughts of what lay ahead that accompanied him into sleep.

**

John woke just after dawn to find that Charlotte was already up and dressed. She had evidently met one of the maids in their dressing room. He was thankful that there was a door from the hallway into that room, as he and Charlotte had never taken to wearing clothing to bed after dispensing with it at Oak Cottage. She was quietly packing away her last few things into her valise, her portmanteau having already been packed and ready since the previous evening.

“Hello,” he said sleepily, his raspy voice making Charlotte smile as she turned to him. 

“Good morning,” she said, leaning in to bestow a kiss upon his lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yes! And then I woke up an hour ago, unable to go back to sleep because of all of my nervous excitement about today. I tried willing myself back to sleep, and I laid very still so as not to disturb you. But I gave up half an hour ago and decided I may as well get up and get ready.”

John and Charlotte had decided to leave after an early breakfast as the carriage would be traveling all day in order to reach Leighton Hall by evening. They would need to make regular stops to change horses and for at least one meal in the afternoon, so they did not wish to delay. Breakfast was to be simple, and Charlotte guessed that Mrs. Carter already had it prepared and ready for whenever someone first made an appearance.

“It’s a pity that you’re already dressed. I could have helped you pass the time, you know,” he said, running a finger down her throat and the exposed part of her chest before following her neckline with it.

“You were sleeping so soundly that I did not want to wake you until it was necessary. But I do apologise if you feel neglected,” she teased.

“I shall be quite demanding later and insist upon you making it up to me,” he said, throwing back the bedcovers and standing up without a stitch of clothing on.

It still made Charlotte blush to see her husband naked, but she had never averted her eyes from him. She appreciated the view far too much to do that.

“Mmm, I am half-tempted to undo all of Prudence’s work on my appearance and drag you back into bed with me,” said Charlotte, wrapping her arms around John’s waist before sliding one hand down to his backside. “But I suppose I should do the responsible thing and go say good morning to anyone who is up. Prudence will no doubt have already notified Mrs. Carter that I am awake and will be wanting to eat soon. It was really quite unfair of you to get out of bed while I am still in the room, you know.”

John’s hands went wandering down to Charlotte’s own backside as he gave her a lingering kiss, then released her. “Very well, then, I shall be responsible as well,” he said, picking up his dressing gown and slipping it on. He would dress himself this morning as he had done for the last several years while in Carshalton. But at Leighton Hall, he would have to become accustomed to making use of a servant to do so. He would have many new responsibilities and would benefit from the services of a skilled valet. Perhaps Uncle Arthur’s man would be able to recommend a few candidates for him to consider for the position.

Charlotte made her way down to the dining room and was surprised to find her entire family already there. Her sisters were quieter than they typically were, in particular Louisa, whose exuberance was seldom quelled. Mrs. Wood had circles under her eyes, evidence of a lack of sleep the night before, and it sent a stabbing pain to Charlotte’s heart. Were they doing the right thing in leaving?

Her father was hiding his face behind the newspaper, but she was sure she had seen red-rimmed eyes before he held the sheet up a little higher. Edmund looked at her with a soft smile, which she returned.

“My goodness, I did not expect to see everyone down here this early!” she exclaimed with false cheer. She went to the sideboard to see that Mrs. Carter could not refrain herself and had made eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, strawberries and sliced tomatoes from the garden, and toast. Charlotte loaded up her plate with some of everything, determined to do the meal justice for Mrs. Carter’s sake. It touched her that she had gotten up so early to prepare an elaborate meal for them at this hour.

John entered the dining room a short while later, having taken the time to shave before getting dressed. Charlotte wanted to stroke her hands over the smooth skin of his cheeks and that lovely sharp jawline, but she restrained herself and instead admired how it looked. John flushed at the appreciative look she gave him before he composed himself and greeted the family.

For much of breakfast, it was the quietest meal that the Wood family had ever experienced together. A few attempts at conversation were made, but all of them petered out quickly. Everyone was excited for Charlotte and John, of course, but their imminent separation was weighing heavily on them all, including John, who could not help but wonder if they had made the wrong decision.

Charlotte and John had eaten most of their meal when she turned to him. “John, why don’t you tell them about the time that Uncle Arthur took you fishing and nearly got pulled into the river by a massive pike?” She had been greatly amused when he told her the story, and she thought that it might lift her family’s spirits.

John started in on the tale with enthusiastic gestures and an animated face. Her family was nearly crying with laughter by the time he had finished, and the mood in the room was completely different. Others started sharing funny and sweet stories from Charlotte’s youth and everyone else’s, and they spent a lovely hour reminiscing with one another before they all reluctantly pushed their chairs back from the table.

Charlotte went upstairs to check her old room and see if she had left anything behind. In reality, she knew that she had not, but she needed one last look around before she would feel ready to walk out of the front door for the last time. She sat down on the bed and looked around at the room where she had grown up. She had made plans here, and dreamed dreams, and told herself stories, and thought about what her life might be like when she was grown.

Now she _was_ grown, and about to head off to a new life far away as the mistress of Leighton Hall. Her dreams had not been that lofty, and in her wildest imagination, she had not dared to dream that she would have met someone as wonderful as John.

There was a light tapping on the door and she turned to see her mother standing in the doorway.

“May I come in?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Her mother sat down on the bed next to her and put her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. She was quiet for a moment, then Charlotte heard her breathe in.

“I am so proud of you, my darling girl. You have been so strong, and through all of the trials the last few years have held for you, you were never bitter or angry. You were respectful to your papa, even when he was being bullheaded.”

Charlotte gave a slightly watery laugh at that.

“You kept your sweet heart and your open nature, and you maintained dignity when others cast barbs your way. I am so sorry that you had to go through the pain. I wish that I could have taken it on myself. I wish that I had spoken up more forcefully on your behalf when it came to your betrothal to Mr. Saunderson. I confess that I had some misgivings. I am still not sure why I did not express them to your father. I regret that, deeply.”

Charlotte turned and wrapped her arms around her mother.

“It is alright, Mama. Perhaps this is how things were meant to happen. If they had not and my engagement to Mr. Saunderson had ended sooner, I may never have met John. He has been worth it all. I would go through it all again, and more, if it meant that I would be with John at the end of it.”

The two women shed a few tears before quickly wiping them away and composing themselves.

“And now you are going to be the mistress of a grand estate! I only wish that it were not quite so far away. But never you mind. It is only a day’s carriage ride, and you may be sure that your family will visit you there,” said Margaret briskly.

Charlotte smiled wistfully but did not speak.

“I remember when I came here after marrying your father. I was happy to be married to him and excited to have my own home with him, but it was hard to leave your grandparents. And I was fearful that I would not be up to the task of running my own household. 

“I confess that I was more than a little homesick and anxious for the first few weeks, but as this place became familiar to me and as your papa and I settled into married life, Woodridge became home. I am guessing that you are having some pangs yourself, sweetheart.”

Charlotte looked at her mother.

“I am. I am happy for John’s sake, because I know that he loved all of the time he spent at Leighton Hall when he was growing up, and because I believe he will enjoy the life of a landowner and will do an outstanding job. I am excited for a new adventure. I am glad that we will be able to ease Uncle Arthur’s mind and lighten his burdens a little. But I am afraid that I will make silly mistakes, or that I will miss home so badly that it will taint John’s happiness at being there,” she confessed.

“It is natural to be sad over the people and places we must leave behind. But doing so is a part of life. No one can ever really go through life without sometimes painful partings. But, my dear Charlotte, I know that you will take on this challenge with as much determination as you have the other challenges you’ve faced, and you will do splendidly.

“John is going to understand your sadness, and I am sure that he will not only be a support to you in it, but that he will not expect you to suppress it or to immediately put it past you. He would not want you to do that. 

"We will write to you every week, and we’ll visit as soon as we can, as long as it is convenient for you and not too taxing for Arthur. And if you ever miss Woodridge too badly, remember that we are one carriage ride away. It is a long ride, but one you can still undertake in a day. And you are always welcome to come back for a visit. It will always be home to you, and to John, too, even now that you have a home of your own.”

Margaret’s words loosened a knot that had been in Charlotte’s chest without her even realising it. To know that her mother had felt much the same way when she had come here to Woodridge made Charlotte feel better. And to hear that it would always be her home, and that John was included in that statement, was comforting to her.

Margaret pulled Charlotte into a hug, which she tightly returned. When they at last let go of one another, Charlotte smiled and stood up.

“I suppose we should go back downstairs. John is probably anxious for us to be on our way, and I think that I am ready to go now.”

They found the rest of the family at the front of the house, as well as the servants, who also wanted to say goodbye. Charlotte was touched to see them. The carriage had been brought around and was only waiting for John and Charlotte. They exchanged hugs with everyone and made their way to the open carriage door. John handed Charlotte in and followed after, sitting beside her.

The footman put up the steps, closed the door and climbed up on top of the carriage alongside the coachman. John and Charlotte waved goodbye to everyone out of the window of the carriage until they could not see them any longer.

Charlotte sat very quietly looking out the window on her side of the carriage for several minutes afterward. John had laced his fingers through hers, his thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of her hand, but he did not try to make her talk. They continued this way for a time until John heard the quietest hiccup coming from Charlotte and realised that she was trying to suppress her tears.

He pulled Charlotte against him, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh, my darling girl! It’s alright to be sad and to cry! I would think it odd if you were _not_ sad. It was difficult for _me_ to say goodbye to everyone, and I have only known them since the autumn. Please do not feel that you need to hide it from me.”

Charlotte shuddered with the tears she had been trying to mask. She turned toward John and clung to him as she finally let them fall. He could feel the dampness on his skin, even through several layers of clothing. He slid the fingers of one hand carefully up into Charlotte’s hair and gently stroked her head as his other hand made calming circles on her back.

When her tears were finally spent, he handed her a handkerchief and kept his arms around her. Charlotte dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose, then tucked away the handkerchief. It nearly broke John’s heart to see the signs of her sorrow on her face, and he wondered if he had been foolish or selfish to want this move after all.

Charlotte smiled at him, first in a wobbly manner and then with more steadiness. “Thank you, John. Thank you for making me feel safe enough to do that and to know that it would not upset you. I shall be quite alright now.”

“Are you sure, my love? Do you think you will be able to be happy at Leighton Hall?”

“I do. I spoke with my mother just before we left, and I feel much more confident now. There was simply an awful lot going on inside me, and I just needed to let it out. And now I have, and I can look forward to the rest of our journey!” she said, with a small amount of bravado. But John could see that she was sincere, and it eased his concerns.

Charlotte tried to suppress a yawn, but he knew that, between her early rising this morning and the emotion she had just released, she was bound to be weary.

“You need sleep, darling. Here, I will lean against the side of the carriage, and you can lay against me,” he said.

Charlotte turned sideways and settled herself against John’s surprisingly comfortable chest, pulling her legs up onto the seat next to her. She sighed in contentment as his arms came around her again. The sound of his heartbeat in her ear and the feel of his warm body against her soon lulled her into sleep.

She woke an hour and a half later feeling much refreshed. John dismissed her apology for sleeping on him for so long, saying that she clearly needed the rest and that he had quite enjoyed having her body against him, and Charlotte rewarded him with a kiss, which turned into several kisses.

Charlotte had never been in this part of the country before, although John had seen it a few times in his travels. He played the part of tour guide to her, pointing out anything of interest along the way and giving her estimates of how long it would be until they stopped to change horses or eat, and roughly how much longer it would take to get to Leighton Hall.

They stopped for the next changing of the horses, Charlotte having slept through the first. They briefly got out of the carriage to stretch their legs and take in the air before resuming their journey once the fresh horses were in place. Their next stop was just after noon, and they and the servants took in their noontime meal at a small inn. The coachman saw to the changing of the horses before having his meal, and soon they were on their way once more.

After the final changing of the horses, there were about ten miles remaining on their journey. Charlotte’s excitement was building, but so was her nervousness. She began to ask quite a few questions in an effort to keep her mind off of it. The closer they got to the estate, the faster her questions came.

John could hear the nervousness in her voice and in the rapidity of her speech. He knew that she was becoming too anxious and wanted to alleviate it as much as he could.

Charlotte was looking intently out her window. He leaned forward to press himself against her back, then began placing kisses along her shoulders and up her neck. She dropped her head down and her breathing deepened as her words suddenly stopped.

After a few more moments, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed a hot kiss to her mouth. He stroked his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened them to him. As his tongue explored her mouth, one hand began bunching up the fabric of her skirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a quiet panic.

“Distracting you,” he whispered. “Is it working?”

His hand stroked up the soft skin of her inner thighs and reached the place where they were joined. He quickly slipped a finger into her channel, finding it already hot and slick. He slid in a second and began slowly but steadily thrusting it into and out of her. He twined his tongue with hers and moved it at the same speed he was moving his fingers. 

Charlotte whimpered against his mouth. He pulled back a little to speak. 

“Shh, sweet girl, or they will hear you. You will have to be very quiet for me. Do you think you can do that?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

She clutched his biceps and shakily nodded her head. Her inhibitions had disappeared, and now there was only desperation for a release.

John continued to stroke her, gradually increasing the pace, then employing his thumb to make firm circles on the bud just above her opening. She was so aroused that she knew it would not be long before she came. Her hips began to thrust into John’s hand as the fever pitch built within her, and in another minute, she clutched his arms as John swallowed her cries with his mouth on hers. His fingers gently stroked her as she came down from the peak.

Charlotte slumped against John’s shoulder, feeling much more relaxed and quite happy. This new life would feel overwhelming at first, but she was capable and smart, and she would learn what she needed to learn. She would enjoy spending more time with Arthur, and it would be thrilling to see John in his element as landowner. She was ready.

John withdrew his hand from under her skirts after hastily wiping it on her petticoat. “Darling, we are on our land!” he said, looking out the window. “Two more minutes and we will be pulling up to the front steps of Leighton Hall.”

“What? But I must look freshly ravished! I cannot possibly be seen like this!”

“You look content and pleased, and you have a lovely flush to your cheeks that no one will suspect is from anything other than the excitement of the day and the warmth of the carriage.”

True to John’s words, two minutes later the carriage was coming to a stop. The front doors of Leighton Hall were standing open and, to their surprise, John’s parents were standing at the top of the steps alongside Uncle Arthur.

The footman hopped down, opened the door, and set down the carriage stairs. John exited first, then turned to hand Charlotte out of the carriage. She was swept into a hug by John’s mother, who then held Charlotte at arm’s length and said, “You look wonderful, and after a day of travel, too! Such a becoming colour in your cheeks. This Hampshire air must agree with you!”

Charlotte blushed at her words and exchanged a surreptitious glance with John, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing as he spoke with Arthur and his father. 

“Thank you, Mama-in-law! I am so happy to see you! I did not realise that you would be here.”

“We decided that we should be here to welcome you since you would not be able to stop at Brockworth House on this trip. I also thought it would be helpful for me to show you around the house, since I grew up here along with Arthur. I know that John could show you most of it himself, but there are some stories he doesn’t know and places with which he may not yet be familiar. And I wanted to see the both of you, I must admit.

“Shall we go inside? I will show you to your rooms so that you may freshen up. Would you like to rest before dinner? Cook prepared something that may be served in half an hour or in several hours, depending upon when you are ready.”

She escorted Charlotte inside as John followed. She knew that her husband was feeling quite self-satisfied with his actions in the carriage and with how flustered she was at their sudden arrival. She would be sure to repay him, and soon.


	20. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and John spend their first night and day in their new home.

Mrs. Plumptre walked arm-in-arm with Charlotte up one side of the sweeping double staircase in the entry hall. Charlotte had been too flustered by their sudden arrival and the unexpected sight of her in-laws to have taken in the size of Leighton Hall upon first glance. She vaguely recalled the massive pillars out front that flanked the front doors, which were also impressively large. The double-story entry hall had marble flooring, and along the walls were marble niches that held Greek and Roman busts, as well as urns and sculptures. The formality was softened by a large vase with flowers from the gardens that was set upon a table in the middle of the entry, as well as by the landscape paintings that decorated the walls.

The scale of the home was overwhelming and a sense of panic momentarily threatened to overcome Charlotte, but she took a few deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and pushed it back down. This was her home now, and these were her husband’s parents, and she would not display such a sense of ridiculous fragility in front of them. She had self-respect, after all, and that would not do. She also wanted to make John proud, and collapsing in a fit of the vapours would be quite indecorous.

Even the thought of it made her want to giggle and broke some of the tension that was in her body. She realised that she was actually thankful for John’s lascivious behaviour in the carriage, although she would still plan her sweet revenge, to be sure. She might have just keeled over completely upon sight of the house if she had not first been so well-distracted and thoroughly relaxed.

It suddenly occurred to Charlotte that Uncle Arthur was quite wealthy and that they, in turn, would be wealthy as John was his heir. It was a surprisingly sobering thought, to be tasked with managing so much, being good stewards of it and not squandering it, especially as their sudden prosperity would be gained at the expense of Arthur’s life. She and John had planned on subsisting on his salary as a practising attorney and a partner in the law office, and while he was paid well, it did not compare to the income an estate of this size would bring in.

She supposed she should have been less naive, since they had talked about Arthur’s holdings and the number of animals and some of the tenants and the size of the staff, and other things that should have told her the scope of Leighton Hall. But it was quite different now that she was here in person and seeing it for herself.

She had managed to keep up a polite conversation with Mrs. Plumptre as they had walked to their apartment of rooms upstairs, despite all of the thoughts running through her head. They stopped in front of the doors leading to their sitting room, John coming up behind them.

“I will leave you to refresh yourselves and change for dinner. Your girl Jane has kept herself quite busy since arriving two days ago. I think you will find everything you need right where you need it!”

She kissed Charlotte on the cheek and hugged John before leaving them. John reached around Charlotte to open the door to their sitting room, then stood back to allow her to enter first.

Their private sitting room was as large as her family’s drawing room at Woodridge. It was decorated in shades of pale yellows and soft greens and had furniture that looked as if you could sink into it for a cosy nap. Charlotte likely would do so if she sat down just now. There were throws and blankets on some of the furniture, and Charlotte looked forward to the time when she and John could cuddle together under some of them.

There was a bank of French windows on the opposite wall from the entrance, and they opened onto a balcony that looked out over gardens at the front of the house. She took in the view of the sloping lawn and the path that ran through it to a lake in the distance.

John showed Charlotte around the rest of their apartment. To the left was a door into Charlotte’s dressing room, and her bedroom beyond that. To the right were John’s dressing room and bedroom.

“Separate bedrooms now, is it?” Charlotte asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” answered John with a growl. “I don’t plan to sleep anywhere except in the same bed as my wife. Although I suppose having two rooms from which to choose will make for a nice variety and will keep the servants on their toes when they come to see to us in the mornings,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I can imagine spending quite a lot of time in that lovely sitting room. It’s very relaxing, and I think the balcony would be a delightful place, overlooking the gardens as it does,” said Charlotte as they walked back out to the sitting room and crossed to the windows.

“My uncle and aunt used to have these rooms, and the balcony was one of their favourite places, he had told me. By the time I was visiting here very often, Uncle Arthur had moved to a different set of rooms. I think it saddened him to live in these ones without my Aunt Ellen.”

“Do you think it will upset him for us to live in them now?”

“I think that he will be happy to see them put to our use. If it would have been too upsetting for him, I am sure that we would have been given a different suite of rooms. But I love that you are being considerate of him and showing your compassionate nature with that question,” he answered, moving closer to put his hands on Charlotte’s hips from behind.

“You know, Mother said that dinner could be ready in a short while or in as long as an hour and a half. We do not need to be ready very quickly if we do not wish,” he said, lowering his mouth to Charlotte’s neck to start placing soft kisses along its length.

Charlotte hummed with pleasure, then spun out of his grasp and moved back. “Oh, no, you don’t! You already had me quite undone when we arrived here to see your parents standing on the front steps. I was absolutely mortified! You will not have me so flustered when we go down to dinner, too.”

“You must admit that you felt more relaxed when we arrived than you otherwise would have done,” he said, barely holding back a smirk, but she could see the self-congratulation in his eyes.

“Perhaps, but I felt at a distinct disadvantage in another way altogether. And I will not forget it,” she warned.

John felt a frisson of excitement at her implied threat. “What are you planning, sweet girl?” he asked in a low voice.

They were interrupted by a tap at the door of the sitting room followed by Jane’s entrance.

“I am so sorry for my delay, Mrs. Plumptre!” she said. “I was helping the other Mrs. Plumptre’s maid with something and didn’t realise you and Mr. Plumptre had arrived.”

“It is of no consequence, Jane,” answered Charlotte. “We have only been here a few minutes. I was just about to change for dinner, so your arrival is perfectly timed,” she said, throwing a teasing glance at John as she went with Jane to her dressing room.

**

Jane had been followed shortly after by Arthur’s valet, Parnham, whom Arthur had sent along to assist John until he could interview people to hire his own valet. John would make that one of his first tasks so that he was not inconveniencing his uncle nor overtasking Parnham. He could dress himself in the mornings and ready himself for bed in the evenings, of course, but Parnham would likely take offense if he were to do so, and he did not wish to insult the man. John and Charlotte reconvened half an hour later in the sitting room to head downstairs together for dinner, John having notified his mother previously that they would be ready at that time.

“You look beautiful, darling girl,” said John, leaning in to kiss Charlotte before pulling her hand through his arm to escort her downstairs. 

“So do you,” she responded with a smile, which turned into a laugh when he blushed at the compliment.

Charlotte felt calmer after taking a few minutes to relax while Jane had brushed and styled her hair and helped her into a fresh dress. But she still marvelled at this dwelling that she and John were now sharing with Uncle Arthur and that would be her home for many decades, the Lord willing. She noticed the paintings lining the hallway and looked forward to seeing them in greater detail and brighter light another day.

She and John descended the stairs and made their way to the dining room, which was at the back of the house and was afforded a lovely view of the gardens there. The family all sat at one end of the large table, Arthur at the head of it with his sister on his right and John on his left. Mr. Plumptre sat next to his wife, and Charlotte was across from him, next to John.

William Plumptre was a reserved man, but he contributed to the conversation periodically. John’s mother, Abigail, was warm and engaging, just as she had been at Woodridge. She and Arthur regaled Charlotte with tales of John’s childhood adventures throughout the meal. Charlotte delighted in picturing him as a boy, his golden curls and beautiful blue eyes giving him an angelic appearance that probably helped him to get away with far more mischief than he should. She wondered if their children would look like him, her stomach fluttering with excitement at the thought of having John’s babies. She hoped that they would soon be blessed with an addition to their family.

Charlotte had noticed that Arthur was looking much improved since she had seen him at her former home. She was sure that some of his peaked appearance had been from the travel, but she hoped that the current improvement might last for a period and that they would be blessed with more time than they had initially thought they would be able to have with him.

After dinner, the men went to Arthur’s study for a glass of port while Abigail and Charlotte withdrew to the drawing room.

“Shall I ring for a tea tray?” asked Abigail, deferring to Charlotte as the new hostess of the home.

“Tea would be lovely, I thank you,” she responded.

After requesting the tray, Abigail sat down in a chair next to where Charlotte had seated herself on a loveseat. Taking her hand, she said, “My dear Charlotte, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you and John decided to move here. I know that the news must have come as a shock and that leaving your family could not have been easy for you. But we are delighted to have you that much closer to us, and more importantly, the expectation of your arrival has caused Arthur to rally these last few weeks.

“I do not expect a miracle. I know that his illness will take its course. But you have undoubtedly brought him joy and raised his spirits, which has eased his discomfort and his suffering. Now he will be able to enjoy his remaining time with more peace of mind, knowing that all will be in good hands when he is gone. And that, in turn, gives peace of mind to William and to me.”

“Uncle Arthur is already very dear to me, Mother,” answered Charlotte. “And I know that John loves Leighton Hall and will greatly enjoy being its caretaker. I _do_ miss my family back in Carshalton, but you are all my family, too, and I am grateful for the opportunity to know you better and to spend more time with you.”

Abigail’s hands moved up to cup Charlotte’s face for a moment as she smiled at this young woman, who had such a generosity of spirit. “John truly chose so well when he married you, my dear.”

Charlotte’s cheeks turned pink, and Abigail cleared her throat before briskly changing the subject.

“What do you know of the history of Leighton Hall, Charlotte?”

She spent the next few minutes telling Charlotte fascinating stories about the estate’s past. After the tea tray arrived, she began talking about the current layout of the house.

“John will likely want to meet with Arthur and Mr. Wilcox, the estate steward, tomorrow to go over estate accounts. I do not know if you were planning to join them, but if not, I would be happy to take you on a tour of the house,” said Abigail.

“I daresay that John will apprise me of what I need to know in terms of estate business. I would like to begin familiarising myself with the house as soon as possible, as it will be my responsibility to manage it. With the housekeeper’s help and expertise, of course,” answered Charlotte.

“I will introduce you to Mrs. Hopkins, the housekeeper, and Mrs. Salter, the cook, tomorrow morning before we begin our tour. I am sure you will work closely with both of them and that they will be invaluable to you. They are looking forward to making your acquaintance!” said Abigail, as the door to the drawing room opened and the men entered.

John crossed to the loveseat and sat next to his wife, flashing a devastating smile at her as he did so.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Charlotte asked. 

"I thought I should come up to speed on the current state of things here, and I would like to make some progress on finding a valet. Arthur was suggesting that we meet with Mr. Wilcox. Would you like to join us?" 

“Actually, your mother has offered to give me a tour of the house tomorrow after introducing me to Mrs. Hopkins and Mrs. Salter. I think I would be wise to begin learning my way around immediately. It will feel like home more quickly once it is more familiar to me,” said Charlotte.

“I think that is a very wise decision, love. I’ll come and find you after my meeting is over, if you don’t mind me joining the tour in progress. It has been several years since I have been here, and I am looking forward to seeing it all again. I expect that we’ll be attending church on Sunday morning, but if the weather holds, perhaps I can show you around the grounds that afternoon?”

“I would love that. I am eager to see the lake from up close and to find out what other wonders Leighton Hall holds!”

“It will take more than one afternoon to really see everything, but we will make a nice start of it,” answered John as they turned to join the conversation with the others.

**

Saturday was a beautiful day, and it began with a leisurely lie-in for Charlotte and John. The two of them had been so tired by bedtime the evening before that they had fallen asleep after exchanging a few languid kisses. But Charlotte woke up in the middle of the night and found herself longing for John. She was curled up against him with his arm around her, but her desire for more intimate contact was strong.

She tried to lay very still as she knew he had been just as tired as she was. But only a few moments passed before John quietly whispered, “Are you awake, sweet girl?”

Charlotte leaned up and softly kissed his jaw. “I am. I am sorry if I woke you.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little. I woke up and felt lonely.”

“Lonely? I’m right here.”

“I know, but I…” said Charlotte, trailing off.

John knew what she wanted, but he wanted to hear her say it. “You what, lovely girl?”

“I...desired you. But you were asleep, and I did not wish to selfishly wake you when we’d had a long and tiring day yesterday,” she admitted.

John dropped his voice to a register that made Charlotte squirm. “Well, I am awake now, my lovely, sweet, enticing girl, and I am craving you,” he said, turning to face her and sliding his arm around her waist as he pulled her into a heated embrace.

They pressed their bodies against one another, hands stroking over each other as they exchanged kisses, reveling in the ability to be together like this, whenever they chose. When neither of them could wait any longer, John moved one hand to Charlotte’s thigh and pulled her leg over his, then slid smoothly into her warm, slick passage. They moved slightly against one another, making gentle rocking motions.

Charlotte’s hums of contentment as John pushed into and pulled out of her body only spurred on his own arousal. When he felt his climax drawing closer, he slid his hand between them and used his fingers to rub her between her thighs. Charlotte’s hums changed to whimpers that rose in pitch and volume as his thrusts became a bit more forceful. Her fingers curled against his back as the pressure between her legs increased and became a delicious ache.

Just when John thought that he could not hold off his satisfaction any longer, Charlotte cried out, and he felt her squeeze around his length. He lost control and his thrusts became erratic.

Charlotte felt his hot release within her quivering body, and she tenderly stroked her hands over his back until his own spasms had ceased. 

Both of them sighed in contentment, then John kissed her hair.

“I love you, dearest Charlotte,” he said.

“And I love you, my darling John.”

They fell back asleep with their legs and bodies still entwined.

**

The family had breakfast together on Saturday morning before separating to go about their tasks. Arthur and John went to Mr. Wilcox’s office to look over the books and discuss the most crucial aspects of the estate’s finances and operations. William made use of the study to read over the newspaper, as he did not wish to pry into the business that was not his own, while Abigail took Charlotte to the morning room, where they would meet Mrs. Hopkins.

Charlotte guessed that Mrs. Hopkins was in her forties. She was not a very tall woman. She was a bit plump, and she wore the weight well. She had blond hair that did not yet have any grey in it, so far as Charlotte could see. The housekeeper had crinkles at the corners of her blue eyes that showed she frequently smiled, as she was doing now upon her introduction to Charlotte. Charlotte enjoyed her warm manner and hoped that she would have a close working relationship with the woman.

Mrs. Hopkins went over details for Charlotte’s main responsibilities in overseeing Leighton Hall. Everything would be carried out by the servants under Mrs. Hopkins’ supervision and that of the butler, Mr. Creighton, but Charlotte would meet with the housekeeper at least weekly to be given reports on anything of concern or interest and to keep her apprised of upcoming events, and any expected guests. They would also go over household accounts, as Charlotte would be supervising that aspect of estate spending.

These tasks, in addition to getting to know the tenants and the community, would keep her well-occupied while allowing time for leisurely activities, too. Although Charlotte was familiar with the responsibilities of the mistress of a home, the scope of the duties for a property of this size was daunting. However, she knew that the home had been without a mistress for several decades and had managed smoothly without one, so there were doubtless few mistakes she could make that would cause any lasting harm. 

She wished to make a good impression - on John, on Uncle Arthur, on all the servants - and prove that she was capable of managing everything well. She would have to rely on Mrs. Hopkins to assist her in making the transition. She liked the housekeeper and thought that Uncle Arthur had made a wonderful choice in her when he had hired her seven years earlier.

Next she was introduced to Mrs. Salter, who had been Arthur’s cook for over fifteen years. Mrs. Salter was an inch or two taller than Charlotte herself and had a sturdy build, with dark brown hair. Charlotte thought she was probably in her fifties. She seemed reserved, but Charlotte realised that she was likely nervous to be meeting her new mistress. She sought to put the woman at ease by complimenting the meal from the previous evening, as well as that morning’s breakfast. When she mentioned that John had raved about Mrs. Salter’s cooking during their journey to Leighton Hall, her face relaxed and a mild blush appeared on her cheeks.

The woman was pleased to show Charlotte around the kitchen and introduce her to the kitchen staff. She offered to go over several weeks’ worth of typical menus when next they met. She also asked Charlotte if she had any favourite meals that Mrs. Salter should add to her repertoire, and she noted several dishes that John had always seemed to enjoy during his visits.

Charlotte was impressed by her generous nature and her willingness to adapt, as well as her memory for what foods the people for whom she had cooked enjoyed. She knew that some cooks could be very proprietary about their kitchens and their menus and was relieved to know that this was not the case with Mrs. Salter.

With their morning of meetings complete, the two ladies stopped for a cup of tea and some of Mrs. Salter’s excellent baking before Charlotte’s tour commenced. Mrs. Hopkins joined them for the downstairs portion that involved the servants’ areas, such as the scullery, laundry, and servants’ hall. From there, Abigail took Charlotte to the reception rooms, music room, salon, and other parts of the ground floor that Charlotte had not yet seen. They stopped in the drawing room from last evening so that Abigail could point out items of interest there before continuing on to the ballroom.

Charlotte marvelled at the immense space, with four chandeliers from which candles would be suspended during a ball. There was an orchestra dais at one end, and there were doorways into rooms that could be used for dining and cards on the night of such an event. She thought that it might rival, and perhaps even surpass, Lady Torrington’s ballroom at Lavender Manor. 

After the ballroom, the women went up to the first floor to continue the tour. There were a number of guest rooms and apartments on that floor, and Charlotte could already picture her family and friends coming to visit and staying in some of them. There were enough rooms to host a sizable house party. Perhaps she and John could plan something like that for the following spring, when the weather would be pleasant and they would have had time to adjust to their new positions and home.

Soon they had reached the family portrait gallery, which is where John found them when he returned to the house. He had made a quick stop at their apartment to drop off his notes from his meeting before going in search of his wife and mother. 

He snuck up behind Charlotte as she was looking at a portrait of Arthur and Abigail’s great-great-grandfather and his family, stoic expressions worn by the people in the gilded frame. Her focus was on the painting and on listening to Abigail’s recounting of what she knew about its subjects, and she did not realise John had joined them until he spoke from behind her.

“Ah, I see you have reached Great Great Grandfather Alexander. I always thought his eldest looked like he was up to some mischief,” he said as Charlotte turned to smile at him in delighted surprise.

“You’re here! I had expected you might not be done for some time yet.”

“Fortunately, Mr. Wilcox is an excellent steward. Everything was meticulously detailed and so well-organised that I did not need to ask many questions. I have some things to review, but I can do that later. Or we can review it together later if you would like me to go over everything we talked about earlier.”

“Really?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course,” he said, surprised. “I want you to be informed about anything of importance to this estate. It will be yours just as much as mine.”

“I would like that,” said Charlotte, beaming.

“John, would you mind showing Charlotte the next several portraits? I need to go speak with your father about something, but I should be back in ten minutes or so,” asked Abigail.

“It would be my pleasure,” answered John as his mother left the portrait gallery.

He led Charlotte to the next painting and began to tell her about its subject. He found himself quite distracted by Charlotte, who had moved behind him and was peering at the painting around his shoulder as she pressed herself up against him. She was asking questions about it, but doing so in a low, throaty voice that made him feel shivers of arousal throughout his body.

If he did not know better, he would have thought his wife was trying to seduce him in the middle of the portrait gallery. But Charlotte was well aware that his mother was returning soon; what was her game?

They made it through three portraits in this fashion before John finally turned to Charlotte and pulled her into a rough kiss.

“You are an impudent temptress! You know that I cannot follow through on your teasing when my mother will be rejoining us in moments.”

“Oh, no! I should hate to make you so discomposed when you are about to see your mother. That would be quite uncomfortable, would it not?” said Charlotte, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she resisted it. But the sparkle in her eyes gave away her mischievous intent.

“Is this my recompense for the carriage, then?” he asked her.

“Whatever do you mean, my love?” she asked, pressing her breasts up against his chest and kissing his neck.

He felt himself harden as he heard the sound of steps in the hallway outside the portrait gallery. He spun back around and quickly pulled Charlotte in front of him as his mother reentered the room.

“And that is why we never eat blueberries in the summer house any more,” he said. He turned to face his mother, keeping Charlotte in front of him. 

“Ah, Mother! You’ve returned. We have only these two portraits remaining,” he said, indicating the last ones on the wall ahead.

“Excellent, I will let you tell us both about them, John. Then perhaps you would wish to escort Charlotte to your rooms so that she may rest before luncheon. She has had a very busy morning, you know,” said Abigail.

“Oh, yes, I am well aware that she has been up to quite a lot,” said John, Charlotte perfectly understanding his meaning. “She should probably have a lie down before the meal.”

If John rushed a bit through his introduction of the final two paintings, neither Charlotte nor Abigail remarked upon it. Charlotte was kind enough not to ask too many questions. When they were finished in the gallery, John pulled Charlotte’s hand through his arm and walked her to their apartment.

The two of them spent a lovely hour in John’s bedchamber before readying themselves for the afternoon meal. Little rest was actually had, but both felt refreshed and content when the time was through.


	21. An Island Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and John begin to settle into their routines in their new home.

The Plumptres attended the village church the next morning, the first day of June. John and Charlotte met the rector, the Reverend Phineas Comerford, and his wife, Miriam. Reverend and Mrs. Comerford were a couple in their fifties. Two of their five children, all grown, lived in the area with their own families, while the other three lived further away. Charlotte learned a surprising amount of information from Mrs. Comerford in their brief conversation following the service. 

Still, Mrs. Comerford was friendly, and Charlotte looked forward to making her acquaintance to a greater degree. The rector’s sermon was interesting, and the singing of the congregation, which was much larger than at the parish the Plumptres had attended in Carshalton, was enthusiastic, if not always on key. Many of the parishioners greeted them after the service. Charlotte expected that she would enjoy being a part of them.

Everyone was so pleased that Arthur had felt well enough to join them for the service. The five of them rode back to Leighton Hall in one of the carriages. As they rode, Charlotte thought about the rest of the tour that John had given her the previous afternoon. She had not yet seen the servants’ quarters on the third floor as she had not wanted to impose upon them in their personal quarters.

John had taken her there while the servants were having their dinner down on the ground floor. She kept her visit brief so that they would be clear of the space well before anyone was expected to return. She was pleased by the size and state of the rooms, both here in their living quarters and in the ground floor rooms she had seen earlier, where the servants performed much of their work. 

There were plenty of windows for fresh air and sunlight and the bedrooms were equipped with beds, bureaus or wardrobes, desks with chairs, and an easy chair in the corner with an oil lamp on the table next to it. The rooms were painted in relaxing colors, and the beds had cheerful bedding and plump pillows. Many of the rooms had small bookshelves with books and personal items on them. They seemed like comfortable and pleasant spaces.

They arrived back at Leighton Hall after a short drive and went to the dining room for a simple noontime meal. Uncle Arthur went to his room to rest afterward. Abigail announced that she thought she would also have a lie-down, while William went in search of the day’s newspaper.

John took Charlotte on the promised tour of the estate grounds, first showing her the stables, the gardens, and the maze. Charlotte smiled as she pictured Anne and Louisa giggling their way to the maze’s center. She wandered through the formal gardens close to the house, as well as the less structured garden areas a little further away. They crossed bridges over creeks and beds of rocks and walked along the edge of the lake.

The land that Charlotte had thought to be the opposite shore of the lake was actually an island out in the middle of it.

“I used to swim or row a boat over to it all the time when I’d visit Uncle Arthur during the summer. It’s nearing dinner now. Shall we take a picnic over there soon, when we have more time?” John asked.

“That sounds lovely! I’d quite like to explore it.”

“I’ll take you over there soon. And to the summer house. There’s a wilderness walk as well, and an ‘ancient ruin’ that someone added three or four generations ago. You’ll like those, too.”

Charlotte was aware that John had been watching her surreptitiously the entire afternoon. She was sure that he was feeling some anxiety, wanting her to be pleased with the estate after he felt responsible for taking her away from home and family. She was touched by his concern for her and longed to set his mind at ease.

They were walking arm-in-arm back to the house so that they would have time to wash up and change before the meal.

“These grounds are lovely, John, and so is the house. I have no doubt that we will be quite happy here,” she said, watching as his expression eased.

He put his arm around Charlotte’s waist, tugged her up against his side, and kissed the top of her head. “Are you sure? I thought you would enjoy it here but have been so afraid that I had made a mistake in taking you away from Carshalton.”

Charlotte came to a stop in the shade of a grove of trees and waited until John faced her.

“I love it already, John. You didn’t take me away from Carshalton; it was a decision we made together. I don’t want you to worry about that anymore. Agreed?”

John’s face relaxed into an easy smile. “Agreed, my love. Once again I am reminded that I am the most fortunate of men to have persuaded you to marry me.”

“Yes, you are,” Charlotte teased, leaning up to kiss him before they continued back to the house.

**

It was some time before John could fulfill his promise to take Charlotte over to the island to explore. The next several months were full of the two of them taking on the duties of master and mistress of the estate. Arthur had more time to rest as John took on more of the day-to-day oversight, in tandem with the steward, Mr. Wilcox. He visited the farms weekly and made regular visits to the tenants, often taking Charlotte with him. She enjoyed meeting the people who lived and worked on the tenant farms of the estate and was happy to see that their cottages were sturdy and well-maintained - not that she would have expected anything less of Uncle Arthur. The tenants were all quite agreeable, and she especially loved when they would visit homes with young children.

June passed into July as they became accustomed to their new routines. Charlotte’s weekly meetings with Mrs. Hopkins to go over household accounts helped her to quickly familiarise herself with the budget and operations within the house. Mrs. Hopkins would review ahead of time for Charlotte’s approval any major purchases of supplies that could not be grown or made on the estate grounds. If there was a need to hire a new servant, she would be the one to inform her mistress as Charlotte would oversee the servant’s instruction. It was also Charlotte’s job to care for the needs and welfare of the servants who worked within the house.

That and the tenant visits was enough to keep Charlotte busy and productive, but she appreciated that she still had time to practise her music, which she so enjoyed. She also liked to sit in the morning room and work on her embroidery on the mornings when nothing in particular was occurring. She was embroidering flowers and leaves around the hem of a length of white linen, to use as a tablecloth in the dining room. She hoped to have it done before her family visited in a few months.

She still missed seeing them in her day-to-day life, or at least weekly at the parish church, but the sting of leaving them had faded. Her letters home were filled with news of what was happening at the estate and what she was learning, and in return she received letters that kept her up-to-date on her old neighbours, as well as reports from the family on what had been happening.

Sometimes Louisa and Anne would send notes, too, and they had each sent along a watercolour painting. Louisa’s was of the house at Woodridge, and Anne had painted a scene of their gardens. Charlotte was touched and looked forward to putting them into frames and hanging them where she could look at them regularly.

Charlotte and John had also been able to travel to Brockworth House for a visit of several days in July so that Charlotte could see where John grew up. She had enjoyed exploring the house and grounds with him and spending more time with his sisters and their families, who lived nearby. Lavinia had shared with them the exciting news that she and her husband would be adding to their family early in the new year, which gave an especially festive atmosphere to their visit.

As July faded into August, she received word that her father would be bringing Artemis and Athena to Leighton Hall in two months’ time, before the weather turned too inclement for him to be able to bring them safely. Charlotte was ecstatic at the news and rushed to share it with John. Just two more months and Charlotte would be seeing her father again. She hoped that other members of her family would make the journey with him.

On a particularly warm late August Saturday, John found Charlotte in their sitting room a few hours after breakfast.

“What would you say to a picnic on the island today?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Shall I have a word with Mrs. Salter and ask her to prepare a picnic basket for us?”

“I spoke with her before I came up here. I was certain that I could persuade you to steal away with me for a few hours,” he said, smiling as he leaned down to give her a kiss. “Can you be ready in half an hour?”

“Certainly! Oh, I’m so excited to see it!” said Charlotte, clapping her hands together as she stood up to ready herself.

They left the house just over thirty minutes later, John carrying the picnic basket and Charlotte carrying the towels they had decided to take, in case they got wet. Charlotte also had a blanket to spread out on the ground once they’d reached the island.

They got into the rowboat that was kept at the edge of the lake, Charlotte taking a moment to balance herself before she sat down and settled on one of the seats. John climbed in and sat with easy grace, as if he did so every day, and picked up the oars, placing them in the oarlocks. He was facing Charlotte, and she watched as he rowed, the muscles in his forearms flexing with his movements. He had left his coat and cravat at home, and his shirt was open at the throat with his sleeves rolled up. Charlotte thought he looked quite tempting.

John was having the same thought about his wife, who had dispensed with a corset or stays and was wearing a thin summery frock over her chemise. He could see the faintest outline of her curves when the sunlight was behind her, and he spent much time studying the way the material caressed her figure.

Ten minutes later, John had rowed them to the bank of the island, hopping out to help Charlotte out of the boat before he pulled it up far enough onto the bank so that they would not be marooned. They got their things out, then John took Charlotte’s hand as they walked across the island to a sheltered cove on the far side. There were trees all around it, and the light breeze coming over the water kept them cool as they ate. 

They spread the blanket out, then opened up the basket to see what Mrs. Salter had packed for them. She had made small meat pies for dinner the night before, and she had included some for them to eat for their picnic. She had also sent along fruit, scones she had baked that morning, and lemonade. The breeze blowing through the trees, the gentle sounds of water lapping against the shore, and the birdsong up above them added to their enjoyment. It felt like a perfect day.

“Shall we go for a swim?” John asked once they’d finished eating and packed up the basket’s contents.

“Now? I don’t have anything to swim in,” she said.

“That is not a problem in my eyes," he said, pulling off his boots. His fingers moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, and he quickly removed that as well. 

"But if you are not comfortable swimming in the altogether, you could always leave on your shift. It’s a warm day, and you will dry quickly once we’re out of the water again.”

He pulled his linen shirt out of his breeches and stripped it off, dropping it to the blanket as Charlotte gave his lean, muscled torso admiring glances. 

She bit her lip as he reached for the buttons on the flap of his breeches. 

"I assure you that we're very sheltered here," he said as he peeled those off as well, leaving him standing in just his drawers. 

It gave Charlotte a thrill to see him standing almost entirely naked outdoors. She longed to feel the breeze on more of her skin and to immerse herself in the water of the lake. 

“Swimming does sound refreshing. I haven’t swum in so very long!”

“It is decided then,” said John, standing up and offering a hand to help Charlotte to her feet.

He helped her with the buttons on the back of her dress, then held her hand as she stepped out of it, blushing under his admiring glances. They walked down to the water and dipped in their feet, Charlotte hissing at the first feel of the cool water. 

"It will feel warmer once you're in it," said John, plunging right in and coming up a few feet away, pushing his wet curls out of his face. 

The hem of Charlotte’s shift swirled around her as she walked further into the water before deciding to join John in plunging right in. She came back up next to him, laughing at her updo that was now coming loose.

“I suppose I should have taken out my pins before coming in!” she said, smiling as she waded to the shore to remove them and leave them with their things.

John watched her as she went, her wet shift clinging to her body like a second skin. It was nearly transparent, and as she turned to return to the water, he could see the darker color of her rosy nipples under the bodice.

Charlotte noticed him ogling her and took her time getting back in, teasing John with the pace. “Is there something wrong, husband?”’ she asked as she approached.

He growled as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body to his, his hands grasping her about the bottom and back as he held her to himself. Charlotte could feel his hardness underneath the water as he captured her mouth.

“I thought we were going to swim!” she said as she ended the kiss and twisted out of his arms, her strokes taking her away from John as she broke free, laughing.

He gave immediate chase as she shrieked. The two of them spent half an hour in the water, chasing each other and stopping frequently to exchange kisses and caresses.

When they tired, they went back to their blanket and used the towels to dry off what they could before stretching out to let the sun dry their clothing. It felt heavenly to relax and enjoy the afternoon together without having to think about responsibilities or carry out any tasks.

Charlotte thought she must have dozed for a few minutes. When she roused, her shift was dry. She turned her head to see John watching her. She sat up with a sleepy smile and stretched her arms high above, John’s eyes dropping to her bosom.

Being here with him felt so unlike their usual lives that it seemed as if they were in an adventure novel. She said as much to John.

“I feel like I’ve been taken captive by a dashing, handsome pirate and been brought here in his boat to be held for ransom,” she said, biting her lip.

John’s eyes flashed with something dangerous at her words. His wife looked like a woman ready to come undone, and he wanted to make it happen. 

A primal look appeared on his face, one that sent a thrill of fear through Charlotte. Her husband looked like a different man. He truly now looked like he could be a pirate.

“If I’m holding you captive, perhaps you should try to escape,” he suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

He got to one knee as he watched to see what Charlotte would do.

She knew that it was silly, but there was a part of her that really did feel a frisson of fear. It was purely in her imagination as she knew that John would never harm her, but it added a menacing element to the afternoon that, rather than making her feel alarmed, caused a throbbing between her legs as her breath quickened.

She got to her feet and watched him for a second, trying to gauge if he really meant it.

“I’ll even be sporting and give you a head start. Ten, nine…”

With that, Charlotte leapt into action and dashed into the trees, trying to put as much as distance between them in the remaining time as she could while being very conscious of how much noise she was making as she did so. She could hear movement behind her as John gave chase, and it made her heart skip a beat. She slowed her movements and started looking for a place where she might be able to hide. This truly felt unfair, though - John was far more familiar with this island than was she. Perhaps speed was her only recourse.

The chase was over within two minutes as John caught up with her far too easily with his long legs and powerful thighs. Charlotte felt a thrill at the set of his jaw and the dangerous glint in his eyes as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to himself.

“Aye, lass, it seems you won’t be getting away from me today. And you’ve raised my ire, trying to escape like that,” he said, his voice sounding rough and sinister. “I may have to make you walk the plank.”

“Please, sir, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” she asked, playing along with her part of damsel in distress.

“Ye might offer me a ransom,” he suggested.

“But I have no money. What can I give you?” she asked.

“Yourself,” he answered, crashing his mouth against hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

His fingers curled into her hips as he kissed her roughly, pressing his erection against her lower body and chuckling in dark satisfaction as she gasped. He slowly backed her into the trunk of a huge tree nearby and moved a hand up to the bodice of her shift, shoving it down below first one breast, then the other.

Charlotte felt a thrill go through her at his behaviour and demeanour. When he lowered his head and took her breast into his mouth, she took hold of his head with one of her hands as she dug the fingers of her other hand into his back. He growled against her breast and raised his mouth to hers again.

She could feel his hands moving below her waist, loosening the ties of his drawers and shoving them down to free himself. He grabbed the skirt of her shift and rucked it up to her waist in front, then, with one quick plunge, he was deep inside her. Charlotte lifted a leg to wrap around him, and he grabbed it and held on as he immediately began pulling out and thrusting back.

His pace was rough and quick, his lips demanding and unyielding as he ravished her mouth mercilessly. He grabbed her other thigh and lifted her a little as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The adjusted position allowed him to stimulate her just where she needed the extra friction, and within another minute, he was spilling inside her as she cried out, her body clenching harder around him than she had ever done before.

They panted against each other for a few moments, then he lowered Charlotte gently back to the ground, tenderly kissing her as he lifted her bodice back up to cover her breasts. His thumbs stroked across her nipples and made her jump.

“I hope that wasn’t too rough, sweet girl,” he said as he nuzzled her nose.

“Mmm, it was absolutely divine,” purred Charlotte in response. She had had no idea that her husband could be so deliciously savage, and she had loved every minute of it.

They held one another and continued to exchange soft kisses for several minutes before returning to their blanket to get dressed and then walk back to the house, grinning the entire way.


	22. A Trip Off The Beaten Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte finally take their delayed wedding trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for a certain someone's appearance in the chapter goes to mustachio, who asked a few chapters ago if we might be seeing her in this story!

“What would you say to going on holiday to London?” John asked Charlotte one morning a few days later.

London! Charlotte had never been there before, but she had heard all about the delights that the city had to offer. They were past the warmest days of summer and the city would be more pleasant. The Season was long over, but there were still plenty of things to see and do, and Charlotte didn’t really care about mingling with the _ton_, anyway.

“Are you sure it would be acceptable for us to be away from home? Will Uncle Arthur be unduly burdened in our absence?” she asked.

“Uncle Arthur is the one who suggested that we should go. He knew that we had not taken a honeymoon trip as we had planned. He told me that he is feeling sufficiently hardy, and Mr. Wilcox is such a competent steward, that we should feel free to take some time away and have our honeymoon now.”

“Do you think he truly will be fine in our absence?” she said.

“I do. He has rallied somewhat since our arrival. He is able to take longer walks than he was able to do for some time, and he has more colour in his cheeks. He has already had more time than the doctor had anticipated. His heart will be too weak to carry on at some point, but he is sure that he will be well until we return.”

“I would quite like to see London,” said Charlotte, her eyes beginning to brighten with anticipation.

“What would you like to do there?” John asked.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to see Vauxhall Gardens! Do you think it will still be open?”

“Quite possibly. It’s been a warm summer, so they will likely stay open through the end of September,” said John.

“And I would like to visit Hyde Park. And maybe a show at the theatre?”

“Those two can definitely be arranged. Shall I tell Uncle Arthur that we’re going, then?”

“If you’re absolutely sure that he’ll be fine while we’re away,” said Charlotte.

“I have to trust him, and he says he’ll be fine.”

“Well, then, let’s go!”

Charlotte and John began making arrangements, sending word to Hawkesbury House, Uncle Arthur’s townhouse in a fashionable part of London, to let the staff know of their arrival date in two weeks’ time. Jane worked with Charlotte to plan which dresses she should take and what accessories needed to be packed to go with them, while John’s valet, Griffin, advised John on what he recommended for the places where he would be taking Charlotte.

John fit in an extra meeting with Mr. Wilcox, although it wasn’t necessary as the steward had everything perfectly in hand already. Before they knew it, two weeks had passed and they were on their way to London in their carriage. They would be able to travel the distance in a single day, staying in the townhouse that evening.

Jane rode in the carriage with them, at least as excited as Charlotte, if not more so, to be seeing London for the first time. She tried very hard to behave with propriety, but Charlotte noticed her leaning forward and peering out the window quite a bit as they neared the city and then traveled its streets to Hawkesbury House. The home was not fully staffed as Arthur’s appearances had been rare there over the past two years and some of the servants had found employment elsewhere. But there were footmen, housemaids, and a cook, as well as a housekeeper to manage everything even in the absence of family.

John had not been there for about five years, his last visit having occurred when he was still in law school. He did not recognise some of the servants, but Mrs. Morton, the housekeeper, was waiting in the hall when they walked in.

“Mrs. Morton, may I present my wife, Mrs. Plumptre? Charlotte, this is the housekeeper, Mrs. Morton.”

The two women greeted one another, the housekeeper pleased to see that John had found a woman worthy of him at last. She had always had a soft spot for the polite young man who had been a bright light in her master’s life for so long.

“I’ve had the master suite of rooms made ready for your use, Mr. Plumptre. Mrs. Plumptre, if there is anything you lack, please do not hesitate to tell me. I am so pleased to meet you and hope that you will be comfortable here at Hawkesbury House.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Morton. It is a pleasure to meet you as well! I look forward to making your further acquaintance.” Charlotte smiled at the woman, who radiated warmth and welcome.

“Shall I have tea sent to the drawing room? You can refresh yourselves after your journey.”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you, Mrs. Morton.”

John led Charlotte to the drawing room, his wife noting the handsome dark-paneled walls in the hallway that were in the drawing room as well. This home had a more masculine feel to it, with its abundance of paneling, wood floors topped by deep-toned Oriental rugs, and less ornate furnishings. 

Charlotte and John settled themselves onto a small couch together, relaxing and talking for a few minutes until the tea arrived. The cook must have been baking in anticipation of their arrival, judging by the tarts and scones on the tea tray. They looked absolutely delicious, and Charlotte suddenly realised that she was famished, though dinner was still several hours away.

After tea, John took Charlotte on a tour of the townhouse, ending at their suite of rooms. Jane and Griffin had gone ahead of them and had unpacked while they were in the drawing room and on their tour. Charlotte felt a little guilty that they had been able to relax while their servants had been hard at work, and she sent Jane off to take a well-earned break while John showed her around their temporary living area.

Just as at Leighton Hall, there was a bedroom for each of them. However, Jane knew by now that Charlotte would sleep in John’s room, anyway. She had put away Charlotte’s clothing in her dressing room, but there were a few personal items that she had unpacked in John’s bedroom.

John had sent Griffin earlier off as well, the valet having already unpacked all of his belongings. He stepped up to Charlotte, took hold of her hand, and tugged her into his arms.

“Hmm, we have a few hours before dinner. Do you have any ideas for what we can do to stave off boredom?” he asked, his fingers already moving to unbutton her dress as he dipped his mouth to kiss her neck.

“John! It’s the middle of the afternoon! What will the servants think?”

“They will think that I am a happily married man. And a fortunate one.”

Charlotte blushed at his words.

“Besides, they are aware that we are still newlyweds, so it will hardly be a surprise to them if we are ensconced in our rooms regularly,” he continued, his fingers nimbly unfastening her gown, then tugging it down her arms as his mouth began to kiss down her chest.

Any argument Charlotte may have made ended when John’s mouth reached the swell of her breast. “I suppose that if the worst gossip they can share about us is that we enjoy loving one another in the afternoon, that is not so bad.” She gasped as he pushed down her shift and took her nipple into his mouth. Then the only sounds coming out of her for a time were moans, whimpers, and cries as John took his time pleasuring his young bride and finding his own satisfaction.

**

The next morning, John took Charlotte to Hatchards, the renowned bookshop on Piccadilly. She marveled at the size of it as they approached the double doors that were flanked by windows filled with books of all kinds.

“Four entire floors? How marvelous!” she said, looking in wonder at the tall facade. Her wonder continued when they entered and she took in the sight of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases containing so many delights waiting to be discovered. The winding staircase would take them up to the other three floors when they had exhausted the possibilities of this one, but Charlotte knew that would take a while.

They spent several hours at Hatchards and made a few selections to purchase before they went next door to Fortnum & Mason, entering the sizable grocery store through the pale blue arched doorway with the matching arched windows on either side. It was already nearing luncheon, and John requested that they fill a hamper, planning to take Charlotte to Hyde Park since it was such a pleasant day outside.

Charlotte turned up her nose at the prawns and game in aspic jelly, an item that John had only jokingly suggested to her should be included. Instead, they browsed around the shop as their hamper was filled with scotch eggs, fresh bread and butter, game pies, hothouse fruit, and cheese, with mineral water and beer to drink. Charlotte picked up some tins of tea to send to family and friends in Carshalton and to give to John’s family, as well as some to take back with them to Leighton Hall.

Basket in hand, they took the gig to Hyde Park. There were not very many people as the Season was over and it was much too early for the fashionable crowd who lived in town to be making their appearances. John and Charlotte did not mind the largely open space. He drove them around the circle towards a shady glen as the sun was beginning to feel a bit warm.

As they neared a turn in the carriage path, John heard his name being called from a barouche that was approaching from another direction. Two couples were inside it. He nodded at the pair in the front seat, not recognising either of them. Then his eyes shifted to the back, where he noticed a young woman who was quite familiar to him.

“Miss Knight, what a pleasant surprise to encounter you here,” he said, recovering from his shock admirably. He had never thought to see Fanny again, and certainly did not expect that he would have an occasion during which he would be introducing her to his wife.

“Might I introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Charlotte Plumptre? Charlotte, this is Miss Fanny Knight,” he said as he turned to Charlotte.

She was looking at the other woman with interest, aware of the undercurrent that was there and the fact that Miss Knight had called him “John.” It was quite inappropriate for her to have addressed him by his Christian name in such a public setting, but Charlotte had gained the impression that she was perhaps impulsive and lacking a little maturity. She may not have thought about the appropriateness of her action but had simply spoken in surprise.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” said Charlotte with a warm smile.

Miss Knight looked pale and a little discomposed. Charlotte felt badly for her. She was also aware that John had stiffened the tiniest bit when he recognised Miss Knight. Clearly there was some history between the two of them, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She felt, however, as if Miss Knight was sizing her up.

Miss Knight greeted Charlotte and introduced her driving companions. They all exchanged pleasantries, then a silence fell between them. John broke it moments later.

“I am pleased to have made your acquaintances. Miss Knight, I wish you well.” Touching his fingers to the brim of his hat, he took up the reins and drove on towards their picnic destination as Fanny’s party went further into the park.

Charlotte did not ask him about the woman. She trusted John completely and knew that he would tell her what she ought to know. He had never given her any reason to doubt his devotion to and love for her.

They reached the shady glen and John hopped down, securing the horses to one of the trees. He handed Charlotte down from the gig, then bent down to check the grass. It was dry from the sun that was now above the trees. He removed his coat and spread it out on the ground, helping Charlotte to sit before grabbing the hamper from the store.

The food was delicious and the weather could not have been more perfect. They enjoyed a lovely meal together as they discussed where they should go the next day. Charlotte could feel a slight tension in John and longed for him to share with her so that he would be free from it.

She tucked her legs underneath her, feet to the side, then tugged gently on John’s shoulders. He lay back with his head in her lap, and Charlotte began to card her fingers through his golden curls. She loved his hair, how thick and luxurious and soft it was.

He closed his eyes and relaxed as she made soothing circles and lightly scraped her fingernails over his scalp. It was lovely to have this time together in London, when they could forget about duties and responsibilities and enjoy their life as a newly married couple.

After a minute or two, John took a deep breath.

“I should have told you about Miss Knight before. Several years ago, before I moved to Carshalton, I was calling upon her regularly. I was drawn to her youthful exuberance, her ready laughter, and her forthright manner. I enjoyed spending time with her, and I thought at the time that we would be a good match.

“I called a final time with the intention of making her an offer. But it became clear to me then that Miss Knight’s feelings were not as engaged as I thought mine to be. I left without making the offer, and I had not seen her again, nor communicated with her, until today’s encounter.”

He finished speaking for a moment, and Charlotte rubbed at his temples.

She did not like hearing John talk about having feelings for another woman, but it had been quite a while before the two of them had even met. She did not expect that he had lived a life without romance before her. And he clearly felt the need to be upfront with her about Miss Knight. She would prefer that than to have a man who behaved surreptitiously.

“I am sorry,” she said. “That must have been difficult. I hope that it did not pain you too much to see her today.”

John tipped his head back to look at his beautiful, compassionate wife as he took one of her hands within his, threading his fingers through hers. “It did not pain me at all, nor has it for a long time. You see, I realised soon after our parting that Miss Knight and I would not have been a good match after all. She lacked maturity and there was a tendency in her at times to be petty, even mocking. I, on the other hand, was far too rigid and judgmental in those days. We were not well suited. I think we would have made one another very unhappy.

“And I realised one more thing, some time later. I never felt a passion for Miss Knight. I was not even aware that it was lacking, that I was capable of such passionate desire for a woman, until I met you.”

His thumb was rubbing against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. Charlotte’s breath began to catch at both his words and at his intimate gesture in such a public place as Hyde Park.

“I will forever be grateful that I came to the realisation in time to meet you. You are everything I could have ever wanted, beyond even what I could have dreamed of having, in a woman and a wife. I am utterly devoted to you.”

Charlotte’s heart leapt at her husband’s sweet words and, for a moment, she completely forgot her surroundings. She leaned down and fitted her mouth over John’s, kissing him until they were both a little breathless. 

She lifted her head to meet the shocked eyes of Miss Knight. Although her own cheeks coloured, she raised her chin and nodded at the other woman sedately as John turned to see who had caught his wife’s attention, then choked back the laughter trying to bubble up within him.

**

The Plumptres’ visit to London was a whirlwind of activity. On subsequent days, they took in the exhibits at the British Museum, went to theatre shows at Covent Garden and Drury Lane, and visited St. James’s Park. On their final day in the city, they took a walk to do some sightseeing, strolling past the Palace of Westminster, the beautiful Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and the Temple and its gardens.

They stopped in at Twinings Tea and Chocolate Warehouse, where Charlotte and John purchased chocolate for her brother and sisters and for his nieces and nephews. They also picked up some biscuits for Uncle Arthur, hoping that they would tempt his appetite. Their walk took them to Grosvenor Square, Trafalgar Square, Bond Street, and Berkeley Square, where they ended their afternoon at Gunter’s Tea Shop.

Gunter’s was well-known for its ices and sorbets. John had not had an occasion to visit there in years, but Charlotte had never been. John watched with anticipation as Charlotte had her first taste of an ice. She had chosen maple, while John had picked bergamot. He waited to try his until Charlotte had taken her first bite.

She spooned the frozen treat into her mouth, taking only a small bite at first. Her eyes closed for a moment and she hummed with pleasure at the taste of the cold, creamy dessert. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at John as he tried his own chocolate confection. The two of them traded bites as they savoured their ices before returning home to rest for their evening at Vauxhall Gardens.

**

It was their final evening in London, and Charlotte was at last going to see Vauxhall Gardens. One of the most vaunted pleasure gardens in England, Vauxhall was known for its picturesque setting, the music and dancing, the fine dining, and the thousands of glass lanterns that hung from its trees, illuminating the gathering areas and main walkways of the vast park at night.

Charlotte’s eyes were lit up with excitement as she walked through the entrance, her arm through John’s. They emerged from a covered walkway and walked around the main Grove until they approached the Orchestra building, its octagonal shape and multiple tiers quite distinctive. To the left of the Orchestra building was the Rotunda Theatre, where indoor musical performances or dances could be held, and just past that was one of the two clusters of supper boxes.

John led Charlotte to one of the boxes and seated her before sitting down beside her. The orchestra would be playing that evening, and they were to have their supper there while enjoying the performance.

They perused the menu and chose the thinly sliced ham for which Vauxhall was famous. One journalist had claimed years before that it was possible to read a newspaper through a slice. They added to it sliced cheese, bread, butter, and cheesecake, as well as champagne to drink, as John noted it was a special occasion.

Charlotte marveled at the linen, the candlesticks, the elegant cutlery and glassware, and all the other touches that made the supper boxes as stylish as a table at any fine restaurant. Their food was brought as the orchestra was warming up, and they enjoyed their meal during the opening numbers.

After they were finished eating, John escorted Charlotte out to the area in front of the orchestra to join other couples who were readying themselves for the next dance. It was to be a waltz, and Charlotte remembered the last time she had waltzed with John, at Lady Torrington’s ball. It was the first time they had ever danced together, and it was shortly after their first kiss out on her terrace. She could tell from John’s expression as he took her hand in one of his and wrapped his other hand around her waist that he was thinking about that night as well.

When the music started, he twirled her around the floor with the other couples, the lights of the lanterns and the skirts of the other ladies combining into a brilliantly whirling kaleidoscope as they all moved to the graceful sounds of the music coming from the nearby orchestra. Charlotte laughed from the joy of it before remembering that ladies were expected to behave with more decorum in public, but she could not keep the smile from her face as they continued dancing.

They danced several more sets before retiring back to their box for another drink. As the orchestra finished playing, John pulled Charlotte’s hand through his arm and tucked her close to his side, leading her off on one of the walkways that led further into the garden. “Shall we see what other wonders Vauxhall holds?” he asked her.

They took the Grand South Walk, the Lovers Walk, and the Dark Walk, all the way at the far edge of Vauxhall. They passed the Prince's Pavilion and were coming up to the Handel Piazza when John directed Charlotte towards a path off the main walkway.

“Would you care to find a less crowded path?”

Charlotte looked at him with a smirk. Although the day’s clement weather and the mild evening had brought out many people, there was still plenty of open space on the main walkways with so many of the _ton_ having left to go back to their country estates at the end of the Season. She doubted that congestion was the reason he was seeking to lead her astray.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, husband.”

John wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they entered the narrower pathway. Charlotte put her arm around his waist and leaned into him as they walked. The sounds of the crowds were muted as they wound through the trees, only an occasional lamp lighting the path for a few feet here and there.

Charlotte turned her head and began kissing and nuzzling John’s neck as they moved further into the darkness. She felt John’s hand move down her arm and slide around her waist, his fingers curling into her side as she gave a gentle suck to the warm skin of his throat. They halted on the pathway and she moved in front of John, pressing herself against him from her breasts to her knees.

She could feel his firm erection pressing against her abdomen and she gave a little whimper. John grabbed her hand and pulled her off the path completely, tugging her along. He looked around, unsure what he was seeking until he saw a bench that was quite without any kind of view. He was sure he knew its purpose, and it would suit him perfectly. 

Reaching the bench, he sat down and pulled Charlotte onto his lap. She sat sideways across his legs, one arm around his shoulders. From this vantage point, they could see no sign of the path some yards away. It was a hidden retreat that was clearly intended as a place for an assignation in an otherwise public place.

John supported her with an arm around her back, then slid his other hand behind her neck, massaging it with his fingers as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When he felt her begin to wriggle a little on his lap, he slipped his hand down over her throat and across the skin that was exposed above her bodice. He moved it to cup her breast over her dress, stroking his thumb across the hardened nipple he could feel underneath the fabric as he continued to kiss her.

Charlotte was pressing her breast into his hand. He moved his hand up to slip her evening gown off her shoulders, pushing the shift with it and exposing her breast to the cool night air. She gasped as his mouth took hold of her nipple, laving his tongue across it and sucking it as his hand moved to the junction of her thighs, pressing against it through the fabric of her skirts and petticoats.

He could hardly believe that he was doing something so lascivious to Charlotte in a public place. But Vauxhall had a way of causing visitors to get carried away by the romantic setting and lose their inhibitions in the secluded walkways, and John was no exception.

He moved his hand down the skirt of her dress and found the hem, sliding his hand underneath it. He stroked Charlotte’s ankle and calf over her stockings, following them up until he found the silky skin of her bare upper thighs. He used his other hand to move her dress off of the second shoulder, pushing it down to leave her breasts bare above her stays. 

He kissed across the open skin between her breasts, then captured her other nipple and gave it a suck as his hand slid between the slick folds between her legs. Charlotte had been driving him nearly to madness by rubbing her soft body against his and using her tempting mouth on his skin, and now he was going to return the favour. 

“John!” she said in a scandalised whisper. “Should we be doing this here?”

“Perhaps not. Would you like me to stop?” he asked, his voice low with desire.

His fingers continued their work between her legs as his mouth returned to her breasts. Charlotte could not think straight. She knew that they were being outrageously wanton. She felt like a libertine, but her rapidly building arousal caused her not to care.

“No,” she whispered back.

“Oh, my sweet girl, you are so very ready for my fingers,” he praised her.

“Yes!” she nodded frantically.

His mouth moved back to hers as his fingers curled within her, stroking that magical spot that she had never known was within her body until he had shown her. Her mouth was almost harsh against his and he knew that she was growing desperate for the release he was drawing out of her. He added a third finger and thrust into her with renewed purpose, giving a curl of his fingers each time he drew them back out and using his thumb to brush against her hardened bud as his hand moved in and out.

Her cries increased, but he muffled them with his mouth, not wanting anyone to overhear his darling girl reaching her satisfaction, nor to have anyone come to investigate their activities. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and rode his hand, pushing herself against him and increasing the pressure against her swollen, achy womanhood. Moments later, she reached her climax, her body squeezing John’s fingers where they had stilled within her.

Her head fell forward to rest against his as she regained her breath. John withdrew his fingers and wiped them against her petticoats, then started to straighten her skirts.

Charlotte grabbed him by the wrist. “What about you?” she asked.

“I can wait until we have returned home,” he said.

“You can, but my skirts _are_ rather voluminous,” she said.

Even in the very dim light that filtered through the treetops, his eyes had adjusted enough for him to see the naughty expression she wore. His erection made itself more painfully known in his drawers as he thought about what she was proposing.

“Are you sure, sweet girl?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded her head. “Very.”

She turned to straddle him, her legs a little shaky as she moved, to John’s amusement and pride. But the amusement fled as her nimble fingers found the buttons of his trousers and released him from his confinement. Her delicate hand took hold of him gently.

“My my, what is this I’ve found?” she asked. She gave him a few strokes, then shoved her skirts up out of the way as she took hold of him. Rising up on her knees, she placed him at her entrance and lowered herself over him, taking him into her body in one long, slow stroke.

Putting her hands on John’s shoulders as his found her hips, she began to move up and down over him, her breathing deep and even as she felt him sliding within her slick, sensitive passage. He was rigid and throbbing within her already. John’s hands tensed at her hips and she knew that he would be spilling into her body in moments.

She was taken by surprise by her second climax, her body already primed for it by John’s expert manipulation of her a few minutes before. She stopped moving over him as she shuddered, her mouth finding his with an unbridled passion. She felt him jerk underneath her body, his hips pressing against her as he lifted her body with a few thrusts and she knew that he had followed her into his own release.

They sat entwined together, John still within Charlotte’s body, until they had both regained their breath. Then Charlotte lifted her head to look at her husband in the dark, her hands skimming over the surfaces of a face that had become so beloved to her.

“This was certainly a memorable way to end our trip to London, was it not?” she asked with a cheeky grin.

John huffed out a laugh. “It most definitely was, my love.”


	23. A Few Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and John return from London and receive word of an impending visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in this chapter! It's been so hard to find time to write some days. Believe me when I say that I am working hard on all my WIPs and updating them as frequently as I can. But I already started on chapter 24, so it should not be such a long wait between this and the next one. Thank you for your patience!

John and Charlotte returned home late the next morning, anxious to be back now that their wedding trip was over. Charlotte was amazed at how welcoming Leighton Hall felt after less than four months of living there. It really had become home to her.

The carriage stopped by the front steps and the footman hopped down to open the door and put out the steps. John got out first before handing out Charlotte, then Jane, from the carriage. Charlotte and John sent Jane and Griffin off for well-earned rests, instructing them to do no work until it was time to help them dress for dinner. The two servants had been busy for much of the prior week.

Mrs. Hopkins greeted them in the entry hall and directed them to the lake when they asked Arthur’s whereabouts.

“Shall we take a walk down there, my love?” asked John.

“That sounds delightful. I shall be happy to stretch my legs a little and take in some air after the hours in the carriage.”

They strolled arm in arm across the lawn and saw Arthur sitting on a bench on the near side of the lake, his valet Parnham stationed nearby but far enough to give Arthur some privacy and time alone.

“Are we interrupting your solitude?” asked Charlotte as they drew near.

He turned to look at them, pleasure on his face. Charlotte noted that he looked well, if on the thin side.

“Ah, there they are! Did you have a wonderful time in London? You must sit with me and tell me all about it.”

Charlotte sat next to Arthur as John stood nearby. “Oh, it was wonderful, Uncle! We went to Hyde Park, and the theatre, and sightseeing, and Vauxhall Gardens,” Charlotte coloured prettily when she mentioned Vauxhall. “And we went to Hatchards!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“I have always enjoyed my visits to Hatchards. Did you find any books to purchase?”

“We did. It was hard to resist bringing home half of the shop! But it was wondrous just to see that many books, all in one place.”

Arthur looked at John then. “It sounds as if your wedding trip was a resounding success.”

“Very much so, Uncle. Thank you for insisting that we go. I do not think we could have dreamt of a better week.”

“I am quite glad to hear it. Tell me more about the places you visited. What were your favourites?”

They talked with Arthur for a few minutes, carefully watching to make sure that they were not overtiring him by telling him too much. He continued to ask questions, which they answered, for several more minutes before catching Parnham’s eye. The valet came to assist Arthur to his feet as John helped with his other arm.

“I am pleased that you had such a lovely trip, and even more pleased that you are here with me once more. But now I am in need of a rest. It is a beautiful day. Perhaps you can enjoy the wilderness walk. I shall see you both at dinner.”

Charlotte gave him a kiss on the cheek before he turned to walk back to the house, Parnham hovering close in the event he needed assistance. John and Charlotte were happy to see that his steps were sure and he did not seem too tired for the walk.

The two of them took Arthur’s advice, strolling along the shaded wilderness walk that skirted around the outer edge of the lake and around the estate property. They enjoyed the late summer blooms, the plentiful greenery all around them, and the cool breezes that made the warm afternoon more enjoyable. They saw squirrels, numerous birds, and even a fox mother with her four kits.

John pointed out the ancient ruin folly that had been built decades before. It looked just like a medieval castle had once stood there before it had been mostly destroyed in battle, leaving a large turret and sections of crumbling walls.

They continued on until they reached the summer house. It had been built in the same Palladian style as the main house, but in a much more scaled-down proportion. It looked like a miniature temple with small columns and a three-section Palladian window set high on the front wall.

Charlotte was pleased to feel how cool it was inside the small house, even though it had been closed up. The stone walls kept it quite enjoyable. There was a fireplace for colder weather, should one wish to visit on a chilly day. There was a colourful rug on the floor, a desk and chair near a window to the side, two easy chairs on either side of a bookcase laden with books, and a bed in one corner. It seemed like a marvelous hideaway.

“This is wonderful!” said Charlotte. “Have you ever stayed here overnight?”

“I have. I used to do so several times each summer I visited Uncle Arthur. I felt so grown up staying out here by myself.”

“I can understand why that would have been appealing. I wish we had had something like this at Woodridge. I can only imagine the fun times we would have spent there!”

“I would love to keep you here for a time and find a way to...entertain you, but Mrs. Hopkins is expecting us back for luncheon shortly. I fear that Mrs. Salter will be quite cross if we do not appear and do justice to her cooking.”

Charlotte laughed. “I do not want to make Mrs. Salter cross! I might be deprived of her delicious scones for a time if I did that.”

“We will come back soon for a longer visit, shall we?” John asked.

“I would like that.”

The two of them closed up the summer house and took the wilderness walk the rest of the way back to the main house, finding that they had arrived back with just a few minutes to spare that would allow them to freshen up for the meal. They went to their dressing rooms and tidied with the pitchers of water that servants had placed there in anticipation of their arrival home. Charlotte ran a brush through her hair and styled it simply before putting on a fresh dress, feeling the need to change out of her traveling clothes.

She saw that John had also changed when he came through to escort her down to the dining room. He looked as handsome as ever in his brown, cream, and white clothing. Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat when she saw him, despite their only having been separated for the past twenty minutes.

Uncle Arthur joined them for the meal, having felt refreshed enough about a short nap. The three of them enjoyed Mrs. Salter’s offerings and catching up on other news from the past week. At the end of the meal, a footman brought in a few letters from the afternoon’s post.

Included in the stack was a letter for Charlotte. She recognised the handwriting on the envelope.

“It’s from Papa! Oh, I hope it tells us the date of his visit!”

The letter included a few pieces of news from Woodridge and the surrounding community. It also included Charlotte’s hoped-for information. Her father would be arriving in two weeks’ time.

She was beside herself with excitement and her brain immediately began to plan.

“I must speak with Mrs. Hopkins immediately! And then I will need to consult with Mrs. Salter about meals, so that I may let her know about Papa’s favourites. Perhaps I should go take a look at the guest apartments myself first? I know that they are lovely, but I think that I am the one best suited to know which my papa would prefer. Or perhaps I should send a message to the head groom so that he may know when to expect Artemis and Athena and be sure to prepare a space for them?”

Her words were tumbling out almost on top of one another as Charlotte began to rise from her seat, then sat back down, then rose again to stand uncertainly.

“My love,” said John, taking her hand. “Please take your seat for a moment. I know that you have much to do, but may I be of help? I will ask Mr. Wilcox to see to the arrangements for Artemis and Athena. I am certain that he will ensure that they have the best accommodations.

“Mrs. Hopkins is very familiar with all of the guest apartments. Shall we meet with her first and ask which she might suggest for your father? Or perhaps Uncle Arthur has a suggestion?”

Charlotte took a deep breath to calm herself. Of course, she did not need to do everything herself. Arthur’s staff was incredibly competent and he would likely have helpful insight. They sat for a few minutes to talk about preliminary plans before Charlotte rang for a servant, requesting that the maid ask Mrs. Hopkins to meet her in the drawing room. They would come up with a plan and put it into action. There would be plenty of time.

**

Monday, the 12th of October, saw Charlotte keeping a watch from the windows of their sitting room when she wasn’t walking along the front terrace or in the formal gardens, where she had a view of the road approaching the house. She had not begun her patrol of the road until just after they had eaten their afternoon meal. She knew that her father’s pace would be easy so that he did not tire out the horses.

Shortly after three o’clock in the afternoon, she thought she saw movement on the road. Excitement leapt in her chest when she realised that there was indeed movement in the distance. Charlotte went inside to tell John and Arthur.

Charlotte had been surprised to see a second carriage coming with the first one and the horse cart that was transporting Artemis and Athena. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement and she looked at John, who simply looked back at her and raised his eyebrows in response.

Charlotte caught herself shifting on her feet in excited anticipation before she calmed herself and stood still. As the carriages rolled to a stop, she and John descended the steps. The door of the first carriage opened, a footman set down the steps, and her father emerged.

Tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes when she saw him. But instead of coming to greet her, he turned back to the carriage and extended a hand, handing down her mother, Louisa, and finally Anna, who was followed by Edmund.

“Oh! I did not know you all were coming!” she cried, hurrying down the last few steps to hug her family as the happy tears fell from more than one pair of eyes.

After she greeted them all, she realised how unprepared they were for the entire family to visit.

“I must hurry and speak with Mrs. Hopkins. Rooms will be made ready for all of you, I daresay while we have tea in the drawing room. I am sure you are all in need of refreshment after your journey.”

“No need, Charlotte,” said John. “Rooms are already prepared. Your father wrote to me separately to tell me that he was hoping to bring your mother and siblings. He wanted me to keep it a surprise in case it did not work out for all of them to come, but I had Mrs. Hopkins prepare everything in the hopes that it would.”

John was rewarded with shining eyes and a radiant smile from Charlotte. “Thank you, John,” she said, her eyes promising a more unrestrained thank you later.

**

Charlotte was enjoying the visit with her family more than she could say. It was so lovely to have all of them here with her at her new home. Her happiness felt complete. She knew that their visit would end all too soon, but she would have the memories of them in the places she had already come to love herself.

As she had expected, Louisa and Anna took great joy in the maze. It was one of the first places they explored. John showed her family around the estate with pride. They exclaimed over the beautiful grounds, the lake with its island, the artfully planned and created wilderness walk, the castle ruin, and the summer house. They enjoyed time with Arthur and were pleased to see how much better he looked than when they had met him in May, even if he appeared thinner.

They would go for walks or for rides on the horses or in carriages, the weather still holding out, although turning a bit cooler. The family went with them to church on the first Sunday and met quite a few of their neighbours there. A few days later, early in their second week, the Plumptres had a card party so that their family could spend more time with some of the people they had met.

Late in their second week, Edmund had taken Louisa and Anna to see the kittens that had been born to one of the barn cats. Charlotte had declined to go as she had seen them a few weeks before and John had stayed with her. Her parents decided to take a walk through the estate gardens together, leaving John and Charlotte alone.

Charlotte had been feeling tired this past week, but she supposed that was not surprising. They had their trip to London where they had been incredibly busy, then came home to exciting news and a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation, and then her family had been with them for a week and a half. While her family was not demanding, this was her first time hosting guests as the mistress of a home, and she had been putting pressure on herself to ensure that all of their needs were met and that they were adequately entertained, without being kept overly busy.

John had noticed his wife’s energy flagging a little during the last few days. He had not said anything, not wishing to upset Charlotte with ill-advised comments or anything that might imply that she was not at her absolute best. But he thought she was in need of some time away in a place of tranquility.

“Love, would you like to talk a walk to the summer house? If you would prefer not to go so far, we can walk to the lake and around its banks instead.”

“No, the summer house sounds lovely. I’ll get my pelisse.”

Charlotte took John’s arm and the two of them strolled along the wilderness walk at a leisurely pace. She could tell that the weather was turning and was glad that the sunshine and milder temperatures had lasted long enough for her family to enjoy the outdoors and to stay this long without worrying about intemperate weather for their return home in a few days.

They soon reached the summer house, having taken a shortcut rather than walking the entire length of the wilderness walk. It felt cool inside, but John lit the fire that was laid, then wrapped his arms around her while they waited for it to warm up the space.

Charlotte lifted her mouth to John’s for a soft, lingering kiss. When her mouth moved along his jaw to his neck, John held himself still for a moment, then lifted her chin with his fingers.

“We do not need to do anything more than just enjoy one another’s company, if you wish. You have been keeping very busy seeing to everyone’s needs for nearly two weeks, and I thought you might simply wish to have a short retreat this afternoon.”

“I will confess that I am a bit tired,” said Charlotte. “But I think I can muster up the energy from somewhere if you were to make love to me,” she said, a flirty grin on her face.

John squinted his eyes at her in mock sternness. “Very well, young lady, but you will let me do all the work. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so,” she said, John’s eyes flashing at her response as she tugged him over to the comfortable-looking bed and began to push his coat off of his shoulders.

He stilled her hands and turned her around, unbuttoning her dress and slipping it off of her body before loosening her stays. Those he also removed, then he turned down the bedcovers before he removed her shift. He slid his eyes over her naked body, and she gave a little shiver, partly from the last bit of lingering cold in the air, but mostly from desire.

His fingers took hold of her nipples and stroked them, and she winced.

“I am sorry, love. Did that hurt?”

“I am a little sensitive. I suspect it may be time for my courses soon,” answered Charlotte, blushing.

“I will be very tender with you, then.”

John tucked Charlotte under the covers while he finished undressing, Charlotte’s eyes unashamedly watching him as he did so. When he was as naked as she, he joined her underneath the bedcovers and pressed himself up against the side of her body, not wishing to put pressure on her sore breasts.

He ran his hands over her body lazily. He already knew her curves so well. He knew where to touch to make her breath hitch, and how to make her relax, and what kind of stroke to use between her legs to bring her to completion. Before Charlotte, he had never imagined that he could know a woman so intimately. It had been such a joy to discover with her in the course of their marriage. 

John stroked the outside of her breasts gently, watching her carefully to make sure he was not causing discomfort. Charlotte leaned in to kiss him more fervently, responding with enthusiasm to his touches.

She could feel his erect length pressing against her already. The languid way he was making love to her was perfect, building desire in her without sapping her energy. Charlotte was amazed at how giving and perceptive her husband was. She slid her hands over his back, stroking up and down. One of them moved down to cup his buttocks, feeling the muscles there clench under her touch. 

John’s kisses deepened but maintained their relaxed pace as one of his hands smoothed over her hip and down between Charlotte’s legs. He heard her breath hitch when he first touched the already aroused bud he could feel there, and he smiled against her lips. He reveled in the power he had over his wife’s body, as much as he reveled in her power over his own.

Charlotte was very aware of the sounds around them - the crackling of the fire, the wind blowing through the trees outside the windows, their deepened breathing and the sighs they were both making at one another’s touches. This was the perfect way to spend their afternoon away together. She had never indulged in too much wine, but she imagined the heady feeling she had right now must be similar to that sensation.

They both lost track of how long they were kissing and touching and drawing their bodies closer together, not paying attention to anything but how it felt to touch and be touched in this quiet hideaway. Their breathing became more uneven as their touches became increasingly intimate.

Charlotte’s hand moved between her and John and took hold of his length. She stroked him gently with her fingers, ready to feel him between her thighs. She could feel his body jerk when her thumb brushed over the tip, spreading the drops of moisture she found there.

John took hold of Charlotte’s leg and pulled it over his hip. She helped to guide him into her body as he slid into her smoothly before he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer.

The two of them rocked back and forth, basking in the pleasure of being joined at last. John could feel his arousal growing as he thrust steadily into his wife. His hand slid down between them again to stroke and press against the hard bud that would help take her over the edge.

Charlotte cried out when she felt John’s thumb press that place between her legs. Her rocking sped up, John keeping pace as her movements became more seeking. A few minutes later, she found her release and took John with her, her body squeezing him and pulling out his own climax.

John turned onto his back and pulled Charlotte up against his side when they were finished. She was so relaxed and drowsy that she fell asleep moments afterward on John’s chest. He kissed her hair and gently stroked her back as she slept, glad that his wife could find a moment’s rest during such a busy time.

**

Charlotte’s family returned home a few days later amidst much hugging and tears and promises to visit again, perhaps in the spring. Charlotte almost again brought up having a house party then but thought better of extending such an invitation before first discussing the idea with John. But a day or two after their carriages left, the family carriage and the one that had transported their servants and the baggage, she broached the subject.

“A house party in the spring? I think that’s a delightful idea, provided it is not too taxing for Uncle Arthur.”

It went unspoken between them that Arthur might not still be with them by the spring.

“It would be so wonderful! We can invite Eleanor and Mr. Addicott, and perhaps Eleanor’s family, and do you think Mr. Tibbetts would like to come with his family? We’ll invite all of your family, of course, and my aunt and uncle. And...do you think it would be presumptuous of me to invite Lady Torrington?”

“I do not see why it should be. She invited you to tea before we left Carshalton. If she is not free to attend, she will tell you. But I could see her being delighted by the thought of a country house party next spring.”

“I shall invite her, then! Oh, it will be hard to wait until the spring!”

“I will endeavour to keep you otherwise occupied until you may begin to plan in earnest, my love,” said John, stepping around her to lean against her body and press a kiss behind her ear. For a time, thoughts of a house party were set aside.

**

A week had passed since the Woods had returned home, but Charlotte was still finding herself weepy over their departure. She wept, also, when she visited the kittens in the barn. And when she read a passage in a book that was achingly beautiful. And when she would think about Uncle Arthur and how much she and John would miss him.

She was still tired, too, despite sleeping for longer periods of time. She even missed breakfast one morning, having slept too late when Jane came to ready her for breakfast and she waved her away. John had already been up and downstairs for a full two hours before she finally roused.

“Darling, I think we should call for a physician. You have been exhausted for weeks now.”

“I do not think that it is necessary, John. I truly am doing better. I just need a few more days of rest and I will be fine.”

John pressed his lips together. She knew that he was not pleased by her refusal to call for the physician, but she did not want to worry anyone and was sure that she would be back to normal soon.

The morning after that conversation, Jane came to inform John that Charlotte had been ill in the washbasin in her room.

“That is it. I am not delaying any further.”

He rang the bell lever and dispatched the responding footman to bring back Dr. Knight with haste, then took the stairs two at a time to their apartment. Charlotte was laying on the bed in the master chamber, looking pale. Jane was tending to her.

“Darling, I am so sorry you are ill. Dr. Knight will be here soon. I am sure he will be able to give you something to help you. We need to find out why you have been so tired, and perhaps this is connected.”

Worry was evident on his strained face as he approached and sat on the side of the bed, taking her hand. Jane absented herself to the dressing room.

“I am feeling much better now, my love. I think I ate something last night that did not agree with me.”

“Perhaps, but I will feel better once Dr. Knight has confirmed that.”

John sat quietly with Charlotte, softly stroking her hand, until a soft knock on the door heralded the arrival of the physician. He reluctantly relocated to the sitting room where he paced around the furniture for the entirety of the time that Dr. Knight was in their bed-chamber, which he was sure had been hours upon hours but had in fact been less than an hour altogether.

Dr. Knight smiled at John when he emerged.

“Was it something she ate, Doctor?”

“Not quite. You should go see your wife. But I will tell you that she is just fine.”

The doctor let himself out and closed the door to their apartment behind him as John went through to the bed-chamber. Charlotte was sitting up against the headboard, pillows behind her, with a soft smile on her face. She held her hands out to him and he hurried to her, taking them and sitting down on the edge of the bed once again.

“What did Dr. Knight say, sweet girl?”

“Something that I should have realised sooner. I am increasing.”

His face changed from concerned to stunned and he fell silent for a few moments.

“What did you say, my love?”

“I said that you are going to be a father, husband. Dr. Knight thinks it will be sometime in June.”

“Is he certain?” he asked, a frown still between his brows, wanting to ensure that Charlotte really was fine and that this joyful news was correct.

“He is quite sure. I should have recognised the signs, and I still have not had my courses. In fact, I missed them entirely in October but was too busy to notice.”

At that, he put his arms carefully around his wife and gave her a timid hug.

“You can hold me more tightly than that. I promise that you will not hurt the baby,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she teased him.

John pulled back and looked at her in wonder before lowering his eyes to her still-flat stomach, which would soon be growing round. He laid his large hand over it, on top of her nightgown, then looked back at her.

“A baby. We’re going to have a baby!”


	24. A Growing Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter passes and Charlotte has a renewed energy, and a growing need, as spring begins.

By the middle of December, Charlotte’s nausea had largely subsided and her energy had begun to return. They had invited John’s parents to spend Christmas with them, and William and Abigail had arrived the week before. They had already been told John and Charlotte’s joyous news and Abigail was anxious to do what she could to assist Charlotte in order to lighten her load.

The servants, too, were being extremely solicitous. Word had spread through the household by the end of the day of Dr. Knight’s first visit. John had been astonished at the speed with which everyone seemed to learn, but Charlotte had simply laughed. An ill mistress, a physician visiting and leaving with a smile on his face, and the fact that they were newlyweds had been enough to give them all a firm suspicion of what was happening.

Mrs. Salter had prepared a number of additional dishes for meals since then that she was sure would be easier on Charlotte’s “delicate condition.” She would also prepare a ginger tea for her when she knew that Charlotte was feeling ill. Charlotte appreciated her thoughtfulness and thanked her warmly, along with the kitchen staff who had assisted, as she knew that the extra food had meant more work for all of them. They simply beamed at her in response, none of them seeming to mind the workload.

Jane insisted on rubbing her feet, her legs, and her back in an effort to soothe her. Charlotte could not deny that the massaging felt heavenly and did make her feel better, even if it was largely due to the emotional response. John also regularly massaged her, saying it was the least he could do after being the one to make her feel so ill. He had a difficult time hiding his proud smile at her condition, however.

Truly her nausea did not seem excessive, although Dr. Knight said that having it was generally thought of as a good sign, which was a relief. Charlotte repeatedly told John that he should not feel guilty and that she was managing well. But John still felt badly for being the one to bring about the ill feelings she was having, even if it was for a joyful reason.

The household breathed a collective sigh of relief when the mistress of the house had begun to bounce back from the early months and regain some of the vitality she had lost. She was sleeping well without needing to sleep quite as much as in the first few months. She had more energy again, and her stomach had finally settled, which allowed her to enjoy the pregnancy much more.

William and Abigail’s arrival helped to make it feel that much more real as Abigail’s excitement and William’s quiet but heartfelt congratulations were the first time anyone outside of the house had acknowledged the pregnancy in anything other than written form. She had, of course, told her parents and Eleanor by letter, and it was exciting to receive their responses. 

But it was not the same as having people there in person to celebrate with them, in addition to Uncle Arthur. He had been so pleased for them when they had told him their news. They had gone to see him not too long after Dr. Knight had left, knowing that word would spread like a wildfire through the house and not wanting him to hear it from anyone other than them.

“I hope you do not mind my saying that it feels more like you are having my grandchild than my great-nephew or -niece,” he had said.

Charlotte had the now-familiar sensation of tears coming to her eyes at the sweet sentiment of his words.

Abigail worked with Charlotte to help ensure that preparations for Christmas were all set. She had the gift of assisting without overstepping or taking control, and Charlotte was immensely grateful to her for it.

John’s brother, sisters, and their families all traveled to Leighton Hall on the 23rd of December, prepared to spend Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day together. They were all aware that it would be the last Christmas that they would share together as Arthur would not be with them the following year, although none of them showed it outwardly.

Instead, there was a joyfulness in their gathering that bordered on overly exuberant at times. But they could be forgiven for the excessive ebullience when the alternative was to dwell on the unavoidable future and be dragged down into gloom.

The family enjoyed all of the festivities of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day together. Charlotte was appreciative of the servants who had helped them decorate and who had worked so hard to help them have an enjoyable holiday. On the next day, they divided up the list of tenants and set off to deliver baskets and boxes to them after distributing the servants’ gifts that morning and sending them off for a well-deserved day of rest.

Charlotte was determined to go along for some of the deliveries, in spite of John’s suggestion that she consider staying behind. They were in their sitting room getting ready to make the rounds.

“It has been such a busy time and you have been engaged in so many of the plans and activities. Perhaps you should take this opportunity to enjoy a quiet interlude in our rooms while the tenants’ gifts are delivered.”

“And will you be joining me for this interlude?” asked Charlotte with an impish grin.

John groaned. “You know that I wish I could, but I need to represent Uncle Arthur today.”

“I thank you for your concern, husband, but I truly am fine. I feel as well as can be expected and am not overly tired. I would like to be a part of this today.”

“Very well, but if you begin to become weary, I want to know about it immediately. We will return home and someone else will deliver any remaining baskets.”

“Yes, sir!” she said, looking smug when John’s eyes gleamed at her. “You know that I love it when you take charge like this.”

John growled and tugged her to him, pressing a firm kiss against her lips. “I begin to suspect that you are trying to tempt me to stay here with you after all.”

Charlotte laughed. “If I thought that you could be persuaded to do so, perhaps. But this is important - to both of us. And we should not keep our family waiting!” she said gaily, spinning away from him to go put on her warm winter coat.

**

The house felt utterly calm by comparison in January. The extended family had gone back to their respective homes and it was back to John, Charlotte, and Arthur at Leighton Hall. The ground was covered with snow, bringing with it the wondrous hush outdoors that often accompanied a fresh snowfall. It was peaceful and relaxing.

Charlotte wished that she was able to simply be at peace, but there was a part of her that felt significantly restless. As she was just past her fourth month and exhaustion was no longer a factor, for the time being, she was experiencing another very different side effect of her condition.

Now that she was feeling better again, they had resumed their lovemaking most evenings after retiring. But it was different now. John seemed to feel as though he needed to treat her delicately, perhaps for fear of harming the baby or that he might hurt her. And there were nights when he thought she would be better served by going to sleep earlier instead.

She found herself wanting John nearly constantly. She fought her almost overpowering desire for a week, unsure if John would be scandalised by her nearly continual need for him if she were to act on her impulses. He had not seemed to mind her enthusiasm when it came to intimacy, but would that change if she began to initiate that intimacy several times a day? 

She finally came to the realisation late one morning that John had never shamed her for anything before, and that communication had been invaluable to them already. She would tell John what she needed, what she wanted, and trust him to be receptive and understanding.

Charlotte went in search of her husband. She guessed that he was in the upstairs study, which he had claimed for his own use rather than feel as if he were infringing upon Arthur’s study, no matter how much his uncle had encouraged him to use it.

The door was closed as it usually was when he was going over account books or writing letters or working on other estate business. She hoped he was not with Mr. Wilcox.

Charlotte knocked softly on the door.

“Come in,” she heard John say.

She opened it and peered around the edge of the door. John looked up from his desk and his face broke into a bright smile. 

“Hello, love. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Charlotte stepped into the room and closed the door behind her before shifting nervously from one foot to the other. She had felt so brave a few minutes ago.

John’s face shifted to concern. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Is there something you need?”

“Yes. But not if you are busy.”

“I always have time for you, sweet girl. And I am not expecting anyone this morning. What do you need?”

Charlotte reached behind herself and grasped the door key. As she turned it in the lock, she saw John’s face register surprise. When she began walking towards him as her fingers moved to the top buttons of her bodice, his eyes flashed and he bit his lower lip as his breathing visibly increased.

“I need you, husband.”

With that, Charlotte was standing in front of John’s chair. He had pushed it back and started to stand up, but Charlotte put her hands on his shoulders and, with gentle pressure, eased him back down. She shook her head as she looked down at him.

“No. I want you right here.”

John’s trousers suddenly felt far too tight as Charlotte straddled his muscular thighs, putting her knees on either side of him in the chair. He could not believe his wife had sought him out here, now, for this. And yet he was delighted by her initiative and by the fact that she craved him so much that she could not wait.

His hands came up to grasp her hips as she settled on his lap. He looked up into Charlotte’s face and saw his own desire mirrored in her eyes. His glance shifted to the skin that was now showing above the buttons she had opened. One of his hands came up to unfasten a few more of them, revealing her chemise underneath. He shoved it down to uncover the top of her bosom, and his mouth moved to the soft skin there, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to her silky roundness. Her breasts were already a bit larger from carrying their child, and he felt his manhood harden further at the thought.

Charlotte’s sighs and moans were already filling his ears as his mouth moved along her chest, shoving the fabric along as he went. He nuzzled at one of her nipples when it was revealed, then took it into his mouth and gave it a gentle suck.

Charlotte moved her hands to his head and pulled it into her. “Harder, please,” she urged him.

John pulled his mouth away and looked up at her, uncertainty clear on his face. “Are you sure that is what you want? You do not want me to be gentle, careful, with you?”

Charlotte leaned forward, teasing his mouth with her nipple until he licked at it.

“No, I do not. You will not hurt me, nor the baby, if you do not treat me as if I were made of porcelain. I need to feel more. Please, John.”

“Promise me that you will tell me if I am hurting you or making you uncomfortable in any way, my love.”

Charlotte squirmed on his lap, rubbing against his erection through her skirts and the fabric of his trousers as he groaned. “I promise. Now please, put your mouth back on me, husband.”

John brushed his thumbs over her nipples, both of which he had now revealed to himself. “Gladly, wife,” he said, his eyes gleaming as he took her breast into his mouth again. One of his hands moved to the second breast as his other hand began to bunch up her skirts.

Charlotte wriggled and grabbed her skirts to assist, pulling them up and pushing them out of the way. John’s hand moved up between her thighs and found her already hot and wet for him. He moaned into the warm breast that was in his mouth as he began to stroke at her folds. Being so restrained with Charlotte had been difficult for him, but he had felt that it was his duty to do so when she was carrying their child. He had thought that she would want him to be extremely careful at the very least, or possibly not even have relations until the baby was born.

He had been relieved when she had shown interest, even in the early months. He had noticed that she had seemed less tired and more enthusiastic recently, but he had not wanted to tax her or treat her too roughly. He did not know how a woman’s bodily responses and sensations changed while she was increasing and would have hated to cause Charlotte any pain or discomfort.

He trusted her to tell him if he was doing anything she did not like, now that she had told him she needed more. Two of his fingers slid into her slick channel, and she moaned. He was slightly worried about whether or not any of the servants might hear them, but he would not stop what he was doing if she was enjoying it so much.

Charlotte knew that she was not being very discreet. There was a window behind John, but they were on the second floor and no one would be able to see in here. Still, servants might be going about their duties in the hallway outside. And yet John was making her feel too gloriously good to be concerned.

His fingers withdrew from her and, as he plunged them back in, he captured her mouth with his own, swallowing her moans. Charlotte could already feel the pressure building within her body, which seemed to be far more sensitive than it had been before she had become with child. She needed to feel John inside her, but she knew it was not going to happen until after she had found her own release. She would not be able to hold out that long.

Her hands gripped John’s shoulders and she pushed herself down against his hand as his fingers continued their thrusting. Her breaths came faster and faster and she could hear the pitch of her moans, which had now become whimpers, getting higher. A few more thrusts and she felt herself throb around his fingers as John kissed her deeply.

As soon as she had taken a few breaths, her hands scrambled between the two of them, reaching for his buttons. She could hear John sharply inhale as she opened up the flap of his trousers and took him into her hand. His hot manhood was already hard and throbbing.

Charlotte rose up on her knees to hover over him as John held her skirts out of the way. His eyes were on her hand holding him as she sank down onto his length, and he groaned in satisfying pleasure as she took him within her body.

He gripped her skirts as he grasped her hips, holding them out of the way so that he could watch her rising and falling onto his erection, aroused by the sight of her taking him into her body and then rising up, leaving her slickness behind on him. He knew that he was not going to last much longer.

John wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s waist and pulled her upper body in so that she was rubbing against him at a different angle. He heard the change in her cries and knew that she would be able to find another release if he could just hold on a little longer. He thrust up into her body with renewed purpose as she ground herself down. As his hips began to stutter, losing rhythm, he felt her body clench around him as she went over the edge again. He spilled himself into her immediately, Charlotte’s body pulling him with her.

The two of them sat in John’s chair, wrapped around each other, for several minutes, John still inside Charlotte. Eventually, their panting gave way to satisfied smiles and soft kisses.

Charlotte looked shy as she pulled back and met John’s gaze.

“You do not mind that I sought you out for this? Now? In this manner?”

“Mind, darling?” he answered, looking astonished. “No husband in his right mind should object to his wife coming to him like you did. Any time you wish to have me and I am available, I hope you will feel free to do the same. And I promise that I will not treat you like a fragile, breakable doll. I will trust you to tell me if what we are doing is too much for you.”

Charlotte leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss onto John’s mouth. “I suppose I should tidy myself before luncheon. Otherwise, the servants will think that we just took a tumble.”

“We _did_ just take a tumble, my love.”

“I know that, but I do not want the servants to know it!” she said to his amusement, blushing as she climbed off of John’s lap. She straightened her skirts as he tucked himself back into his trousers and fastened them.

“Perhaps I should come with you and tidy myself, too,” he said, eyeing her from head to toe.

“Are you sure that is your actual purpose for accompanying me?” Charlotte asked, her eyes twinkling.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much time there is until luncheon, and on how tired you are.”

**

Charlotte and John enjoyed the next several weeks immensely. As February arrived, John was thrilled to see his wife’s belly growing significantly. The soft roundness was an external reminder that she was sheltering their child in her womb. He was aroused both by her changing figure and by the knowledge that he was the one who had caused it to change so.

He also felt an even deeper tenderness for her, as well as for their child. Often he would lay behind her in their bed, kissing the back of her neck, his arms wrapped around her and cradling her stomach, hoping to feel movements from the tiny life inside her. At other times, Charlotte would sit against the headboard and John would lay with his head in her lap, talking to the baby, telling it stories and reciting poetry as Charlotte’s fingers combed through the curls on his head.

They had decided to postpone their house party. They were not sure how much activity Uncle Arthur would be able to handle in a few more months. He was beginning to slow down again, although he was still joining them for most meals and enjoying some afternoons in his library. Charlotte wished that the weather was warmer so that he could spend time out in his gardens that he loved, but it was still quite cold yet.

Charlotte was receiving regular letters from her family, who were excited about the coming addition. She remembered the conversation she had had with Margaret when her family had visited in October.

She and John had taken the family on a tour of the house and the grounds, and she was walking arm-in-arm with her mother after they had shown everyone the lake.

“Sweetheart, this is such a lovely estate! I am so very happy for you, and for John, too. He is a fortunate man to have you for his wife.”

“Thank you, Mama. It was hard leaving you all, but I know that this is where we are meant to be. We are building a life here, and I already love it. It is home.”

“I am so pleased to hear that, Charlotte. I can just imagine my grandchildren running about the grounds, hiding in the maze, swimming in the lake, playing with the barnyard kittens...I apologise if I make you feel as if I am rushing things. It will come in due time, and this will be a lovely place to raise your family, even if I wish you were a little closer.”

Charlotte wished that her family was closer, too, particularly now that there was to be a new baby in June. But John’s family was near enough to be a regular part of their lives, and Charlotte’s mother had already promised to come in May and stay until after the baby was born and Charlotte was back on her feet. She had been relieved by her mother’s answer to her request to come. She was excited to become a mother, but she was nervous about the birth and about taking care of an infant of her own. She did not plan to use a wet nurse and would keep the baby with her the majority of the time, instead of hiring full-time nurses as many wealthy families did.

One afternoon in March, when Uncle Arthur was having a particularly good day, he called Charlotte and John to the drawing room and requested a tea tray. They made small talk until the tray arrived, wondering why Arthur wished to speak with them.

Charlotte poured for everyone as Arthur began to speak.

“I seem to recall some time ago talk of a house party here. I believe my sister had asked about the two of you hosting one. Has your condition made a party seem unwise?” he asked kindly.

“No, Uncle. I just...we were not sure…” she faltered.

“We thought that the noise and bustle of a house party would be disruptive to your rest,” answered John.

“I see. I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, both of you. However, I have decided that I would like to see this house filled with laughter and fun and family again, one more time. I would quite like for you to go ahead with the house party, if you feel that planning one would be manageable.”

“Are you sure, Uncle?” asked Charlotte.

“Very sure, dear Charlotte. You should invite family and friends to stay. And perhaps we can host a fete for the neighbourhood, to welcome the spring.”

Arthur began to regale them with tales of parties in the past, from when he was growing up at Leighton Hall and during the early years of his marriage. They began to make lists of whom to invite and of ideas for a spring fete, Arthur suggesting a number of activities depending upon the weather. Excitement grew in all three of them as they made plans and looked ahead to the next few months.

Charlotte and John worried that it would be too much for Arthur, but he assured them that it was what he wanted, and he had certainly been happy while they had planned. They would have to trust that he knew best and proceed with their plans. They began to have the invitations written out, anticipation growing with each one that was sent.


	25. A Houseful of Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house party begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to give the doctor a name without it even occurring to me that his last name is the same as Fanny’s. They are no relation, so don’t worry that she will crop up again. It’s just my absentmindedness and the fact that Knight was on a list of surnames that were regularly found in Regency-era England!

Responses to the house party invitations had begun arriving, and everyone who had been invited had accepted, with the exception of Charlotte’s cousin Lucy. Lucy had married her young baron five months prior and was with him at their home in the north of England. She was increasing and was not tolerating the first months very well, so she had had to send her regrets.

Charlotte’s excitement rose with every reply. She was in great anticipation of having her family and friends gathered at Leighton Hall to celebrate and spend a few weeks together.

The final response was from Lady Torrington, who wrote that she was delighted to receive Charlotte’s invitation and that she very much looked forward to seeing her again. With that, their numbers were complete and Charlotte threw herself into the arrangements.

It was a daunting task preparing for the house party and the fete, too. But Mrs. Hopkins was more than up to the challenge of assisting Charlotte with plans, having managed the household for a number of house parties at her previous place of employment. She also knew Leighton Hall well enough to make recommendations on which guest apartments would be suitable for whom. Mrs. Salter could be trusted with the menus for the two weeks that everyone would be staying with them, and she had some wonderful suggestions for refreshments that could be served at the fete.

Abigail had written with some ideas for the spring fete as well, mentioning a few events that had been popular in years past. She and Margaret would be there for the entire two weeks leading up to the fete, and both had offered to assist in any way that would be helpful to Charlotte.

John was, of course, doing his part to lighten Charlotte’s load, but she felt that everything was under control and that she was managing it well. The weeks flew by as she continued with her regular duties around the estate in addition to planning for the party and fete.

As Charlotte entered her seventh month in April, her energy was beginning to wane again. She was managing to keep up with most of her duties, but her expanding body and the movements of the baby pressing against her from inside as the baby grew and space began to run out meant that sleep was sometimes disrupted, so she was resting more in the afternoons. Her ankles sometimes swelled, too, and John would gently remove her shoes and stockings and rub her aching feet and legs. 

At last the final week of April arrived. Their family and friends would be coming the following week for a two-week stay, culminating in the spring fete for those on the estate and in the local village. Mrs. Hopkins and the rest of the staff insisted that they would manage all of the final details and that Charlotte should rest and take care of herself. Mrs. Salter fussed over her so that it was almost as if her own mother was already there. John treated her indulgently and was protective as well. Charlotte finally gave in and spent her days in more leisurely pursuits, resting whenever she felt tired.

There were nights when Charlotte had already fallen asleep by the time that John came to bed. Sometimes he would slide quietly into bed behind her, curl up against her warm, soft body, and press a kiss to her hair before he joined her in slumber. At other times, his slipping into bed and wrapping himself around her would be enough to cause her to stir, and she would wake, wanting him.

On one such evening, John joined Charlotte in their bedchamber after spending some time reading in their sitting room. Charlotte had gone to bed particularly early. He undressed swiftly, having already sent his valet away as he did not want to disturb Charlotte when it was time to ready himself for bed.

He moved stealthily and carefully, settling himself underneath the covers with his wife and laying behind her, not quite touching. As if she could sense his presence and his body heat, Charlotte scooted back, wriggling until her body was in contact with his.

He always loved the feel of his wife’s naked skin against his own, and tonight was no exception. He had been surprised by the increased arousal he had felt for her as he had seen her body changing with their growing child. There were times he had had to fight not to haul her off to their quarters in the middle of the day, or at any time, really.

He had been so delighted when she had approached him in his study several months before, and he had been more than happy to accommodate her any time she wished. Now that her confinement was nearing and she was tiring more easily, he often contented himself with simply being near her and enjoying the intimacy of being skin to skin.

Tonight, as her back came into contact with his chest and her delightfully soft bottom with his manhood, she continued to move against him. He could already feel himself hardening and hoped that she would settle soon, or he would be having a very uncomfortable night.

Instead, she continued to move, and he felt her stir. He put an arm around her to soothe her, but she took hold of it and brought it to her breast. John’s hardened length twitched at the feel of her nipple and the softness of the skin around it. His fingers played with the peak as his palm cupped the breast before he moved his hand to the other one to give it the same attention.

Charlotte began to let out breathy moans as he touched her. She slid her arm underneath his and grasped his buttocks, making him jump behind her. Her wriggling took on a purposeful air as she pushed her bottom back and forth against him, stimulating him even further.

John took hold of her leg, lifted it over his own, and opened her up to himself. He moved down behind her just enough so that he could slide his firm length up into her hot, pulsing channel, already so wet for him. He slipped his arm underneath her to wrap it around her chest, feathering touches across her breasts as his other hand moved back around her to gently stroke between her legs.

He could hear Charlotte whimpering from the feel of him within her and the touch of his hands on her aroused body. Her sounds, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers, her hot passage grasping him, the squelching of her wetness as he slid in and out of her, all of it combined to create a rapidly building climax in him.

John stroked her a little more firmly as he continued his easy thrusts. He could feel her body starting to tighten, readying itself for her release. He thrust a few more times and felt her come around him, pulling him with her. He stroked her gently a few more times with his fingers, then smoothed his hand over her belly, feeling the roundness there from his child. They fell asleep soon after, John still buried within his wife.

**

The last week before the party passed quickly, and their home was suddenly filled to the brim by the arrival of all of their guests. John’s parents and Charlotte’s family were the first ones to arrive, a day ahead of everyone else. Charlotte had appreciated the extra time with them before the busyness of the entire party began.

Her mother had teared up when she had stepped out of the carriage and saw Charlotte with her round belly. It suddenly became much more real when she saw the physical changes that had manifested themselves in her daughter.

She stepped forward and took Charlotte’s hands, holding them out to the side, and looked her over.

“You look radiant, sweetheart,” she said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “And I can hardly wait to meet my first grandchild!”

“Thank you, Mama. I am so glad that you are here!”

Margaret looked at her assessingly. “Are you nervous?”

Charlotte bit her lip as she felt tears coming to her eyes. Now that her mother was here, the reality that the birth of her first child was going to happen soon hit her with full force. She was excited, but it was mixed with a slight fear of the unknown and anxiety about how she would manage the birth itself. Childbirth could be a dangerous time for women. But she would not dwell on that. Many women had safe births and healthy babies, and Dr. Knight had assured her with each visit that she was doing well.

She did not trust herself to speak to answer her mother. Instead, she nodded her head.

“You are going to do beautifully! Both in having this baby, and in becoming a mother. And just think - in another five or six weeks, you will be holding your son or your daughter in your arms.”

Margaret’s tranquil assurance was already soothing Charlotte and helping her to feel that she could face the unknown with bravery.

John had watched the reunion with an ache in his heart. He knew that Charlotte had dearly missed her mother, especially now that she was having a child of her own. He was so glad that her family was here and that her mother would be staying on until after Charlotte’s confinement was over. She needed her Mama at a time like this.

He watched them as they walked inside with their arms linked, ready for a long visit and the opportunity to catch up before the house was overrun with other guests.

**

Over the next day, the rest of their house guests arrived, their carriages pulling up to the front steps to allow their occupants to alight before the stable staff took care of their horses and their vehicles. The house became a bustling hub of activity.

Eleanor had excitedly embraced Charlotte, thrilled that her dear friend was going to be a mother very soon. When they had a moment together one afternoon, Eleanor whispered that she was nearly certain she was also in the same condition. Charlotte could see that Daniel was fit to bursting about it. He clearly doted on his wife, and Eleanor looked at him as if the sun rose and set with him alone. Charlotte was delighted that Eleanor had found happiness, and so soon after she had done the same. She was going to treasure this special time with her dearest friend and the opportunity to get to know her husband better, in addition to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Easton again.

The rest of John’s family had arrived, including Lavinia with her husband and their three-month-old daughter, Amelia. Charlotte cooed at the smiling baby and took the opportunity to hold her when she could be pried out of her grandmother Abigail’s arms. She was pleasantly surprised by how much of a hands-on grandmother her mother-in-law evidently was. She and John were fortunate indeed to have two sets of loving grandparents for their child.

Both Lavinia and Elizabeth were happy to share their experiences as mothers - as, of course, were Abigail and Margaret. But Charlotte made sure not to talk babies and motherhood to the exclusion of all else, particularly when in company with guests who were not mothers.

This was the first time that Charlotte had met John’s elder brother, George. He and his wife, Augusta, had arrived just before luncheon with their two sons and their daughter. George seemed a little stuffy, but his wife was vivacious and drew smiles out of him during the meal. Charlotte quite liked Augusta and was anticipating forming a quick friendship with her. Their children were well-behaved, albeit seemingly too restrained at times. Charlotte was sure that time spent with her younger sisters and with the Tibbetts children would help them learn to relax, provided they could be let out from under the sometimes overly watchful eyes of their father long enough.

Her uncle, aunt, and cousins had come soon after George and his family. Charlotte was not sure how her Uncle Joseph would mix with people like the Eastons and the Tibbettses. She had not forgotten how he had first treated John when they had met, with his snobbery towards those involved in trades, or who had earned their money rather than inherit it. It was her hope that he would be civil and make an effort to mingle with everyone, since he had made the choice to join them. She would not stand for any of her guests to be made to feel as if they were inferior to anyone else, whatever the reason.

The Tibbettses were next to arrive. Charlotte was surprised to see how much the children had all grown. Rebecca’s eyes were wide as she looked at Charlotte’s rounded stomach. Charlotte smiled and sat down in a chair to be at Rebecca’s level.

“Did you know that I am going to have a baby?” she asked the little girl.

Rebecca shook her head.

“I am, and right now, it is living right in here,” she said, placing her hand over the roundness of her stomach. As if the baby had heard her, and perhaps he or she had, Charlotte felt a strong push against her palm.

“The baby is kicking! Would you like to feel it?”

Rebecca nodded shyly and reached her hand up, but hesitated to make contact. Charlotte took her hand and placed it right where she had felt the kick, putting her own hand over Rebecca’s.

“If we are patient for a moment, I think you will feel something.”

It was not thirty seconds later when there was a series of strong kicks. She laughed as she watched Rebecca’s eyes widen even more than before. She looked at Charlotte in astonishment.

“This little one is quite strong, do you not think?”

“Yes, I could feel them all the way out here!” said Rebecca, finally speaking.

Mrs. Tibbetts approached then, having watched from a short distance away. She drew her daughter to her side and asked Charlotte how she was doing as they began to catch up on one another’s news.

**

Lady Torrington was the last to arrive, her carriage pulling up to the steps about an hour before afternoon tea. She looked fresh despite the hours she had spent traveling, and her face lit up with delight when she was met at her carriage by John, who handed her out, and Charlotte, whom she embraced before looking her over, just as Mrs. Wood had done.

“It would appear that settling into marriage and impending motherhood agrees with you, Charlotte.”

“Thank you, Lady Torrington. It does indeed!”

“Now, Charlotte, we talked about this. I would like for you to call me Mrs. Forrester, if Frances is too informal. In fact, I would like everyone to call me Mrs. Forrester while we are here. I do not want any of us to stand on unnecessary formality. It is a house party and we are here to enjoy one another’s company and, dare I say, perhaps even have some fun?”

She smiled mischievously at Charlotte, who returned it before escorting Lady Torrington into the house and to the housekeeper, who would lead her to her apartment for the visit. Once Lady Torrington had had an opportunity to refresh herself in her rooms, she joined everyone in the drawing room for tea.

Those who recognised her were already beginning to bow and curtsy before introductions were made to the rest, but she waved them back into their seats.

“Please, none of that. I am simply here as a member of this esteemed party and am looking forward to knowing all of you better!”

It took a little time and more than a few utterances of “Lady Tor-er, rather, Mrs. Forrester,” but by the end of the evening, formality had been officially set aside and everyone was at ease in one another’s company. Uncle Joseph even sat with Mr. and Mrs. Tibbetts for a card game and made polite, though reserved, conversation. Charlotte suspected that putting on airs when a countess had already set them aside would come across as rather silly and that her uncle realised that. She hoped that his experience over the next two weeks would cause him to permanently lose his rigid notions about those who were in other social classes.

Charlotte was quite pleased with how the party had begun. She also noticed the smile that was frequently on Uncle Arthur’s face. She was so glad that they had gone ahead with the party.

Two evenings later, the Plumptres hosted a dinner party for the guests and some of their neighbours, bringing together their life in Carshalton with their new life now at Leighton Hall. Among the invitees were Reverend and Mrs. Comerford, as well as Dr. Knight, who had become a friend to John and Charlotte after being a longtime friend of Arthur.

Charlotte watched with pleasure as everyone mingled. She observed with particular interest the interactions between Dr. Knight and Mrs. Forrester. He had been seated on one side of the countess for dinner, with Charlotte’s Uncle Joseph on the other side. Both men made conversation with her at the appropriate intervals, making sure that they were splitting their time with the conversational partners on their other sides.

But when the doctor and the countess were in conversation, Charlotte was sure that there was an extra sparkle in the eyes of them both. After dinner, when everyone had met up in the drawing room after the men had had their glass of port, Dr. Knight was soon at Mrs. Forrester’s side, and he ended up partnering her in the card game they played with the Addicotts.

Charlotte kept one eye on the foursome as she played hands in her own game. She noticed that there were a lot of smiles and no small amount of laughter shared by the group.

As Jane helped her get changed for bed that evening, her mind whirled with possibilities. Was it possible that Mrs. Forrester had an interest in Dr. Knight, and he in her? Was there the potential for anything beyond a mild flirtation during the next week and a half? If there was, she was determined to do anything within her power to encourage their connection.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still mulling it over when John entered the bedchamber from his dressing room.

“What are you planning, sweet girl?”

“Who says that I am planning anything?” said Charlotte, a faux innocent look on her face.

“I know you too well for that to work on me. Out with it.”

His attempt at a stern expression was ruined by the twitching of his mouth, betraying the smile he was holding back. He was certain he knew just what was on her mind. While she had been watching Mrs. Forrester and Dr. Knight, John had been watching her.

“It is just that Mrs. Forrester and the doctor seemed to get on quite well together. I thought that they might enjoy the chance to see more of one another over the next few weeks.”

He was smiling openly at her now. “Are you playing matchmaker, love?” he asked.

“I am merely going to provide opportunities for the two of them to be in the same place at the same time. It will be up to them to take it from there, if my suspicion is correct.”

Charlotte noted the look of skepticism her husband wore.

“Truly! I do not wish to meddle, nor to manipulate if this is not something that they both want. But surely you could see that there is something between them, could you not? And I only want Mrs. Forrester and Dr. Knight to be as happy as we are, John."

"I am not sure that anyone else could ever be as happy as us, love. But if they can share even a fraction of our happiness, they would be rich indeed. And I will confess that I may have noticed something there as well. But I could not resist teasing you when I came in and saw your mind racing."

Charlotte looked at him reproachfully. 

"That was not very chivalrous of you. I think that you should make it up to me."

John sat down next to Charlotte and lifted her hair away from her neck, moving it over to the far shoulder. He turned Charlotte to face him and began to kiss the warm skin of her neck as his fingers moved to the buttons of her nightgown.

"I am sure I will find a way," he murmured against her throat.


	26. An Impulsive Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the fete comes, and two people make a life-changing decision.

The house party was progressing smoothly. Charlotte planned activities for some days and left others open for people to explore the house, the grounds, and the nearby village as they saw fit. She hosted friends for a card party one evening, had a concert for those who wished to display their musical talents on another, and had a picnic by the lake on the Sunday afternoon that landed in the middle of the two weeks of the party.

She invited Dr. Knight to each event, and he came to them all, to her surprise and delight. She was not surprised, however, to see how often he gravitated to Mrs. Forrester’s side. She also noticed that at times when attention was focused elsewhere and they were not in one another’s company, Mrs. Forrester’s eyes regularly sought out Dr. Knight.

She was awfully tempted to meddle despite her statement to her husband otherwise, but she held her tongue and contented herself with creating opportunities for the two to see one another and spend time together if they wished. She did, however, notice that they took a walk around the lake on the afternoon of the picnic, staying within sight of others but sharing conversation privately. And there were moments during their walk when she could hear Mrs. Forrester’s laughter, even across the water.

Charlotte was also pleased by how well everyone else was getting along. The children were all playing together, not completely without squabbles, but usually peacefully. George and Augusta’s children were learning to relax and enjoy themselves, and even get a little dirt on their faces and hands at times. Lavinia had more than enough hands to help with baby Amelia even when she was not in the nursery.

Uncle Joseph had not made one inappropriate or offensive comment to another guest and had continued to mingle with most of them, showing no signs of disdain towards anyone. Charlotte had been spending time getting to know all of her sisters-in-law and now considered them friends.

Eleanor, Daniel, and Eleanor’s family had been availing themselves of the activities on the estate. Charlotte and Eleanor had also taken walks and sat in the drawing room and found time to converse privately, and their friendship was as close as it ever was.

Through it all, Charlotte reveled in having both sides of her family there with them, everyone gathered in one place. It had been better than they had imagined. Uncle Arthur continued to smile his way through the days, although she could see the strength draining from his body as the days went by. She was more thankful than ever that everyone had been able to gather with him one last time.

She worried that having so many people at the estate was actually hastening Arthur’s end. But he had lived well beyond when his physician had predicted he would, and she supposed that his time was simply drawing near. She wondered if he would be alive to see their baby be born. Dr. Knight estimated that she had about another month until her confinement.

Charlotte tried not to dwell on the what-ifs too much, as there was nothing that she could do to change the future. Instead, she determined to enjoy every minute that she had with everyone who was important to her.

As the day of the fete drew nearer, Charlotte also found that she was increasingly extraneous in her own home. Any time she made to rise to do something for another person, someone would invariably put a staying hand on her shoulder and offer to take care of it on her behalf. People had even taken over the last bit of planning and organising for the events of the fete.

It was strange to do so little, but if it meant that much to others to be able to care for her in that way, she would deal with her own worries about not being a gracious enough hostess and allow them to do so. She even began to enjoy having so much leisure time, remarking to John one evening, “Maybe we should have a house party every time we are about to have a child. I do not believe I have ever been so coddled in all my life!”

**

Mrs. Forrester, as Lady Torrington had come to be known by those attending the house party with her, had been having a lovely time at Leighton Hall. It had been a delight to spend more time with the young Plumptres and to meet John’s extended family and those members of Charlotte’s family with whom she had not already been acquainted. She had enjoyed seeing the Tibbettses, the Eastons, and the Addicotts again. She had also been pleased to meet some of John and Charlotte’s new neighbours and to see that they had been so warmly welcomed in their new neighbourhood.

But there was one neighbour in particular who had caught her attention. Dr. David Knight, Charlotte’s physician, had been a frequent guest at events over the past week and a half. He was an incredibly attractive man with dark, almost black, hair that was cut short but still showed signs of an unruly curl. He was tall, half a head taller than her own height, and his shoulders were broad, his clothing hinting of a strong, muscular form underneath.

His brown eyes twinkled when he spoke of something amusing, and when he smiled, which was often, dimples appeared on his cheeks. His chiseled, square jaw embodied strength and masculinity. He was the first man who had really caught her eye since Richard had passed on, over six years earlier.

Frances felt her heart quicken the night she met him at a dinner party organised by Charlotte. She had rapidly quashed the sensation, knowing that it would be unrealistic to nurture an attraction to a man who had to be seven or eight years younger than she was and who lived this far away from Lavender Manor. There was no sense in dreaming of a fairy tale ending with him. But it did not hurt to enjoy the view while it was available.

Frances often found herself anticipating the entertainment planned for an evening or the weekend, hoping that she would see the doctor there. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the camaraderie of another adult for a few weeks, after all.

She had begun to wonder if there might be more to it than the doctor enjoying their temporary acquaintance when he so often seemed to be by her side, whether it was to play as her partner in a game of cards, to sit next to her for an evening of musical entertainment, or to invite her to take a walk with him around the lake. At first, she wondered if she should encourage his apparent interest in her. She was not sure if they would have much in common or what his intentions might be.

She knew that he had been widowed for the past ten years and was curious as to why he had never remarried. He had had three children with his wife, all of whom were past the age of eighteen. He must have been very young when they had married, for she did not think that he could be older than forty-five or -six.

Regardless, she found his company delightful and continued to feel her traitorous heart pick up speed whenever she saw him, no matter how she tried to bring it back under her firm control. She watched him when she thought she would not be observed, but she noticed Charlotte’s keen eyes catching her from time to time.

She was sure that life would seem lonelier when she returned to Lavender Manor, but she would enjoy this...friendship? Flirtation? Nothing had passed between them so it was nowhere near a dalliance, not that she would have allowed things to proceed to such an intimate stage with a man whom she would likely never see again. Perhaps it was only friendship he sought, and she was reading too much into it.

She sighed softly as her maid put the finishing touches on her hair for the day. She would be appreciative of Dr. Knight’s company while she had it, and then she would return to her enjoyable life with her friends and her gardens and her busy social calendar.

**

The last few days before the fete passed quickly in a flurry of preparations. The day dawned sunny and pleasantly breezy, with a few white puffy clouds in the sky. There was nothing to indicate rain would spoil their plans for outdoor activities. By the time that Charlotte went outside after breakfast to see how the setup was coming, everything was well in hand. Many of the servants had been given the day off but were pitching in along with the house guests to set up areas for games and tables for competitions and rope off spaces for chairs and blankets. Those servants who had to work would be able to attend the fete in shifts while receiving double pay and an extra day off the following week.

There were to be competitions for baked goods (the ladies of the village were known for their prowess in cakes, pies, tarts, scones, bread - any kind of baking was their specialty), preserves and jams, pickled foods (including eggs, vegetables, meats, and nuts), and confections such as sweetmeats, candied nuts, and comfits. Evidently these competitions were taken quite seriously, with prizes awarded and the top prizewinners auctioned off to raise money for the village church and school.

Additionally, there were tables set up for the ladies to display their skills in needlework, again with prizes awarded to those judged most proficient. The men would have an opportunity to show off their brawn and rowing ability in boats raced down the length of the lake and back, in addition to taking part in a tug-of-war late in the afternoon for those who wished to participate. Both activities were popular among the single men who wished to show off for the young ladies who would be in attendance.

There were games and activities set up for children, including sack races, three-legged races, Simon Says, Duck Duck Goose, marbles and hopscotch. The adults could play diabolos or shuttlecock, and stakes had already been driven into the ground for games of quoits, with the rope circles for throwing already waiting nearby.

They had put towels over by the banks of the lake for those adventurous souls who might wish to take a swim. Although the day would likely be pleasant enough, the water in the lake would still be chilly at this time of year. Charlotte thought it likely that it would only attract children, their caregivers watching from the shore, and perhaps a few intrepid adults.

Everything was in control and there was nothing left for Charlotte to do except relax and wait for their guests to begin to arrive in a few hours.

**

The fete appeared to be a rousing success. Most of the planned activities were complete, with many of the attendees now sitting on blankets and in chairs, enjoying the refreshments that the staff at Leighton Hall had brought out, along with the food from the competitions that many of the proud cooks wished to share. Children were running around, playing with the small toys they had won in their games and races or flying the kites that had been put out for their use.

Charlotte had circulated among their guests throughout the fete, being careful not to overdo it and to take breaks to sit when needed. She often sat with Arthur, who had been helped out to a chair underneath the shade of a grove of trees at the edge of the lawn. He could see nearly every activity from there and watched proudly and happily at the merriment unfolding before him. Charlotte did not think that she had ever seen him look so joyful.

Still to come were the rowboat races and the tug-of-war. Charlotte had noticed Dr. Knight taking some of the ladies out on the lake earlier that afternoon. One of them was Mrs. Forrester, and it seemed to her that he had taken twice as long with her as he had with the others, if she had been watching and had observed such things.

Now there were half a dozen men ready to compete in the first round of rowboat races. There were enough men for four preliminary rounds. There would then be a short break so that the most recent winning rower would have the opportunity for a rest before the final race between the four winners of the preliminary rounds.

John chose not to compete since he felt he would have an unfair advantage, having rowed Charlotte regularly on the very same lake. He escorted his wife down to the lakeshore to watch alongside her. Charlotte thought it was simply an excuse for him to keep an eye on her. His concern for her welfare was sweet, even if she felt that it was unwarranted.

The first round went quickly, with Charlotte’s brother Edmund competing and coming in a close second to Daniel Addicott. The second round included Dr. Knight and Lavinia’s husband, Alexander. It was another close finish between the two of them, but Dr. Knight pulled ahead at the end to win his round, with Mrs. Forrester watching closely from the shore while attempting to appear impartial, much to Charlotte’s amusement. The third round was won by one of the footmen, Frederick, with the Reverend Gooding giving him a surprising run for his money. The last round included John’s brother, George, but he lost to Mr. Mitchell, a local farmer.

Dr. Knight stood with Mrs. Forrester and the Plumptres as he had a glass of lemonade while waiting for the final round to begin. 

“I will not lie. It felt good to win my race earlier. However, I suspect my luck may have run out. Those three men are all big and strapping, and they are younger than me as well. But I will do my best to put in a respectable performance nonetheless.”

“Dr. Knight, you beat several young men in your earlier race. I do not think you should count yourself out just yet,” answered Charlotte. “I thought you already put in a rather impressive performance. Would not you agree, Mrs. Forrester?”

Attention turned to the countess, who flushed at the question.

“I certainly would. I believe you could teach those young men a thing or two. It is not as if you are past your prime, after all. Far from it,” she said, her cheeks turning pinker as the doctor looked at her with a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“For you, Mrs. Forrester, I will do my best.”

He bowed to her and left to join the other competitors at the boats. A few minutes later, they were all in the boats on the water, ready to begin. Everyone at the fete was gathered along the shore, ready for the final race.

The start was called, and they were off. The men had earlier rid themselves of their coats and, with apologies to the ladies, their waistcoats as well. Rowing would have been difficult with the restricting garments on. Everyone watched as the men pushed their oars through the water. Some were using powerful strokes but were dipping their oars far down, intending to go further with brute strength.

Charlotte noticed that Dr. Knight kept his oars closer to the surface, which allowed him to row more quickly with less strength used. He took an early lead and maintained it until they reached the far end of the lake and turned around at the buoys that marked the turning point. He noticed not too far past the turn that Daniel Addicott had begun to gain on him. He had been observing Dr. Knight’s rowing method and had altered his own.

The distance was closing between them in the final fifty yards, with the other two competitors about fifteen yards behind the two in the lead. Dr. Knight began to row even faster, and the crowd on the shore cheered him on. Daniel was coming on strong and Charlotte thought for a moment that he might catch up, but his earlier exertions were now taking a toll and he could not keep up the pace all the way to the end. Dr. Knight won with three yards to spare.

He received quite a bit of congratulations and back-slapping as he made his way back to Mrs. Forrester and the Plumptres. His effort to appear modest was ruined by the smile he was quite clearly trying to suppress.

“It is alright, Dr. Knight. You may preen like a peacock if you wish. That was very well done!” teased Mrs. Forrester.

“Well, as I said, I needed to do my best.”

“For me?” she asked, still smiling.

“Only for you,” he answered, his smug grin fading as he looked at her. The two of them held each other’s eyes for a few moments before Mrs. Forrester dropped her gaze, blushing once again.

“Dr. Knight, have you had enough to eat?” Charlotte asked, smoothing over a silence that was threatening to become awkward. “We have meat pies, sliced ham, fruit, and salads over by the drinks, in addition to some of the fare from the competitions earlier.”

The four of them walked over to see what food caught their fancies, Dr. Knight offering an arm to Mrs. Forrester as they went.

**

Charlotte had decided weeks before that the day of the fete would end with an assembly, to be held in the ballroom at Leighton Hall. John worried that it would be too much activity for her for one day, but she assured him that she would rest in between and that she would content herself with watching the dancing, rather than attempting to participate. With about three weeks now left until the baby’s arrival, she was not feeling especially graceful nor energetic, so she did not mind being an observer.

The villagers left the fete to return home for dinner, many of them planning to be back later for the assembly. Those with young children would be opting out, but the Plumptres expected that the ballroom would not be lacking for people regardless.

The house guests returned to their rooms to clean up and change for an early dinner before the assembly began. John stripped off the sweaty clothes he had worn during his team’s victorious efforts in the tug-of-war as Charlotte watched appreciatively, but he only gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into his dressing room to clean up. Time would not allow for them to do more if they were to be on time to join their guests for the meal.

Dinner at the big table in the dining room with so many family members and friends was a delight, and the time until the assembly went quickly. Before long, villagers were arriving and making their way to the ballroom. It soon became crowded, and everyone was thankful that the French doors to the terrace had been opened up to allow the cool air of the evening into the ballroom.

The musicians that they had hired for the assembly played a lively mix of tunes for a number of country dances familiar to the villagers and house guests alike. Charlotte was content to sit and watch the dancing, first with Uncle Arthur before he retired, then with various members of their party who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to ensure that Charlotte never had to sit by herself for a dance.

She had insisted that John participate as she wanted to enjoy watching him dance, too. She also knew that there were often fewer men dancing than women, and she wanted to try to prevent anyone from having to sit out more than a dance or two if it could be helped.

She surreptitiously watched Mrs. Forrester and Dr. Knight in the two dances that they had shared. They could not seem to take their eyes off of one another that evening. She could not blame either of them, for the house party would be ending the day after tomorrow, so they were aware that their time was growing short, and both were looking resplendent that evening.

Mrs. Forrester was wearing a simple but expertly cut evening gown in a deep blue silk, with pearl earrings and necklace. She looked beautiful without being extravagantly dressed in a way that would make any of the villagers feel conspicuous, with their humbler clothing. The colour made her blue eyes look an even deeper shade and contrasted beautifully with her blonde hair. Dr. Knight was quite handsome in his black and white evening clothes, his black waistcoat adding an air of sophistication to his dashing good looks. They made a gorgeous couple, and Charlotte wondered if this would be the last they would see of one another, or if perhaps there might be something more lasting forming between them.

At the end of their second dance together, Dr. Knight escorted Mrs. Forrester to the side of the ballroom.

“Would you care to take some air outside, Mrs. Forrester?” he asked.

“That would be lovely. It is a little stuffy with so many people in here,” she answered, taking his arm as they walked through the French doors that led to the back terrace.

Lanterns had been placed throughout the gardens behind the house, providing light for those who wished to stroll outdoors. The pair walked down the steps and into the gardens as they talked quietly, heads close together. They stopped when they reached a bench near a fountain, sitting down close to one another.

Frances was very conscious of Dr. Knight’s thigh, only a few inches from her own where they were sitting on the bench. Her hand was still on his arm and she could feel his body heat all along the right side of her. He was beginning to fidget. She thought that he seemed nervous and wondered why.

“I have enjoyed meeting you and becoming acquainted with you over the last two weeks, Mrs. Forrester,” he said.

“And I you, Dr. Knight,” said Frances, smiling at him.

“What are your thoughts on Winchester and this area?”

“I think it is lovely, and the people are warm and welcoming. I can understand why John and Charlotte love living here,” she said.

He turned his head and looked at her intently.

“Is it a place that you could imagine living?” he asked.

Frances’ heart began to beat faster and she searched his face, wondering if the conversation was leading to what she thought.

“I believe I could be happy here, depending upon the circumstances.”

“Do you believe that you could be happy as the wife of a physician?” he asked.

“Dr. Knight, I-”

“Call me David. Please. Have I misread your feelings?

“No, David, you have not. But you are years younger than I am.”

“And?” he asked.

“And it is just not done!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Well, society does not approve.”

“I have gotten the strong impression that you do not give a whit what society has to say about things, as a general rule. Would you say that is true?”

“I suppose so,” she answered.

“Good, that is sorted then. Does it bother _you_ that I am younger? Enough to rule me out as a husband? It is not as if we are a young couple, where the difference might be more apparent. We are both mature adults, although I suspect you must have stopped aging when you turned thirty.”

“Flatterer!” said Frances with a grin. “I think my grey hairs may say differently.”

“They are silver, and besides, they simply make your beautiful hair shimmer.”

Her smile faded a little as she continued to look at him.

“There is also something you do not know, and I am not sure if it will make a difference. I am a countess.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, that could have a bearing on things,” he said, a serious expression on his face.

“It could?” she asked.

“That means you would have to give up your title and merely be a member of the gentry.”

She saw the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

“That is of no matter to me,” she said softly.

“I did not believe it was, dearest. Would you regret leaving your home to live here, with me? I imagine that you have a very comfortable living situation currently.”

“I lived there happily with my late husband for many years, but he has been gone for some time now. His heir has come of age and has been in search of a bride. I have no doubt that he would wish to make Lavender Manor his home when that happens, and I would only feel in the way. I had already been thinking to purchase a home of my own.”

“So now that we have settled that, have you any further arguments to make, Mrs. Forrester? If not, perhaps I may proceed,” he said teasingly.

“Frances,” she whispered.

Dr. Knight stood up, turned around, and dropped to one knee in front of Frances. He took her hand in both of his, giving her a gentle smile.

“Frances, I know that we have only known one another for two weeks, but it feels as if it has been much longer than that. I do not think that, at our ages, it takes months of courting to know when something is right, when there is respect and affection and, perhaps, the beginning of something much more.

“I enjoy spending time with you. I have looked forward to every glimpse of you, every opportunity to converse with you, even the opportunities to try to impress you with shows of my manly strength.”

Frances laughed as he continued to speak.

“Marrying again was not something I had ever imagined doing. But that was before I met you. At the risk of being melodramatic, I now cannot picture my life without you in it. Or rather, I do not want to do so.

“Would you do me the privilege of becoming my wife, Frances, and allow me to spend the rest of my life endeavouring to make you happy?”

Frances pulled her hand out of Dr. Knight’s and cupped his face in her hands.

“It would be my honour, David.”

He beamed at her before wincing when he went to stand up again.

“I may have overexerted myself in my efforts to woo you with my impressive masculinity,” he said, a sheepish look on his face.

“Would you like some assistance?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She reached her hands out to help raise him up.

“It is alright. You may feel free to laugh at me and my vanity. I can admit that I am not quite as spry at forty-seven as I was at twenty-seven.”

She laughed then as he lowered himself back onto the bench, hanging his head in mock shame before he looked back at her with a grin.

He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, turning her to face him.

“It was worth it, if it allowed me to win your heart.”

“You did not need to row a boat for that. You had already won me over,” she whispered as he tipped her chin upwards with his fingertips.

“Why did you not say so sooner? I could have avoided sacrificing my knees,” he said, closing the distance and kissing her softly, his hand sliding down to rest against her neck as he parted her lips gently with his tongue.

After several minutes, he reluctantly separated from her.

“I suppose we should return to the ballroom, or they will be sending out search parties for us,” he said.

“They will likely insist that you make an honest woman of me if we are out here too much longer,” Frances said with a smile.

“We would not want that, now would we?” he grinned back at her. David raised his betrothed to her feet, tucking her hand through his arm before giving her one more lingering kiss and leading her back through the gardens to the ballroom.


	27. A Few Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin and end.

Breakfast the next morning was a lightly attended event, many of the house guests choosing to sleep late after having been up late the night before at the assembly. London balls often went until dawn, and while the assembly had ended shortly after midnight, that was still late enough to warrant a leisurely lie-in for many.

The menu was minimal for breakfast, with food that could be left out in the dining room, available for people whenever they came in. Lunch was somewhat better attended, and by tea-time, Charlotte had seen everyone in the house party with the exception of Mrs. Forrester.

“Has anyone seen Mrs. Forrester today?” she asked of those who were in the drawing room. No one there had, and Charlotte was beginning to grow concerned. It was approaching five o’clock in the afternoon.

“I will ask Mrs. Hopkins to send someone to check on her, darling,” John said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head before going to see to exactly that.

He was just about to the door of the drawing room when there were the sounds of activity in the hall beyond. A footman had opened the front door to admit Mrs. Forrester, accompanied by Dr. Knight and Mrs. Forrester’s maid.

Charlotte went out to the hall with John.

“Mrs. Forrester, I am so relieved to see you! We were not sure where you were and were just about to start searching for information.”

“I am so sorry, dear!” said the woman, taking Charlotte’s hands and holding them in her own. “I never meant to worry you. I had left a note for you on my bed, assuming that someone would be in my room earlier than this and would see it. Perhaps I should have left it with a footman. You see, I left late last night and did not want to disturb anyone.”

“Left for where?” asked Charlotte with a furrowed brow.

“London, with me,” answered Dr. Knight. “We went to obtain a special license.”

“And to be married,” finished Frances.

Charlotte from one to the other and back again. “What?” she asked, shock already beginning to turn to delight on her face.

“David proposed to me last night after our second dance together. I said yes. We talked about it later in the evening, and when he offered the option of stealing away to London to get married today, it sounded so romantic that I could not resist. We traveled overnight, obtained the license this morning and found an accommodating vicar soon afterward, then immediately began the journey back here. I hope that you will forgive me for leaving the party on the last full day and for causing you concern.”

“Of course I will! Oh, I am so happy for you both!” cried Charlotte, hugging first the former Lady Torrington, then Dr. Knight as John shook the doctor’s hand and kissed Mrs. Forrester - now Mrs. Knight - on the cheek.

“I would not wish you to think me neglectful, Mrs. Plumptre. I spoke with Dr. Rendall last night at the assembly before making the suggestion to Frances. He was prepared for any medical needs that may have arisen in my absence,” said Dr. Knight.

Dr. Rendall had come with Dr. Knight on a previous appointment so that he would be familiar with Charlotte’s case should Dr. Knight be on another call when the baby decided to make an appearance. He was the junior partner in the medical practise but was clearly knowledgeable, and Charlotte liked him.

“I would have expected nothing less of you, Dr. Knight. You have always provided me with excellent care and have given me no reason to think you would be irresponsible even with an impulsive decision,” said Charlotte, smiling at her friend’s new husband.

“Charlotte, you really must call me Frances now, since I am to be one of your neighbours and we will be seeing one another quite frequently!” said the new Mrs. Knight.

“Very well, Frances,” said Charlotte with a smile. “We need to celebrate! If the two of you are not too tired, that is, after so much traveling since last night.”

“We were able to get some sleep in my carriage, thankfully,” said Frances. “But you do not need to trouble yourself with any celebration. You already hosted an extensive, and quite successful, event yesterday! Consider that a celebration in advance.”

“We will at least have champagne for those who are of age and are not with child,” smiled Charlotte. “We also purchased several prizewinning cakes yesterday, and I am certain that we have enough for everyone to have a small slice to commemorate the occasion. John, will you-?” she began to ask.

“I am already on the way, my love,” he answered, smiling indulgently at his wife.

“Well, shall we go into the drawing room and share your good news with the others?” asked Charlotte.

**

The other houseguests were just as astonished by the news as Charlotte had been, but every one of them was delighted for the newly married couple. There had been more than a few pairs of eyes watching the two of them over the last few weeks, and several romantic hearts were gladdened by the whirlwind turn of events.

Amidst the hubbub of toasts and excited conversation, Charlotte scrambled to figure out where to accommodate Dr. and Mrs. Knight. Of course, they could go back to the doctor’s house, but it seemed inhospitable to send them away in a carriage when they had already traveled so much since the previous evening, and Mrs. Knight would either need to put off her departure until her things were packed or send someone back for them the next day, which seemed inconvenient. It felt odd to send them both up to the room where Mrs. Knight had been staying, surrounded as it was by other guest rooms and apartments.

“If I might make a suggestion?” said John. “Mr. Wilcox, our steward, purchased his own home just outside the edge of the estate two years ago. The steward’s home has been vacant since then, but it is well-maintained. It should be quite comfortable for a night’s stay. Then perhaps you will allow us to host a modest wedding breakfast before everyone begins their journeys home?”

The newlyweds looked at one another, then Mrs. Knight turned to John. “Thank you, John. That would be lovely.”

With that matter settled, Dr. and Mrs. Knight soon took their leave of the others, Mrs. Knight’s maid remaining at the main house to finish packing up her employer’s things, a process she had begun upon their return. Charlotte hoped that the poor girl would be able to have a relaxing rest of the evening and a good night’s sleep, as she must also be weary from all of the traveling.

Mrs. Salter had packed a hamper with food for the couple to eat for dinner, and they accepted it with profuse thanks as they left. The others dispersed to see to their own packing, take a walk in the gardens, play a few rounds of cards, or rest until it was time to change for dinner.

**

Everyone left in a flurry of activity the following morning. Everyone, that is, except for Margaret. Charlotte’s mother was staying in anticipation of the birth of her first grandchild in three or so weeks and to be a support and a helping hand to Charlotte for the first month of the baby’s life.

Margaret discreetly kissed Thomas goodbye, then hugged Louisa and Anne, who were inconsolable until they were promised that they could return with Thomas to pick up their mother and see their new niece or nephew. Edmund kissed his mother and sister on the cheek, shook John’s hand, and stoically followed the rest of his family into their carriage, which was the last to depart from Leighton Hall.

It felt unnaturally quiet about the house after it had been full of people. It was strange, but not unpleasant. The peace was welcome following several weeks of busyness, culminating in the fete and assembly.

Charlotte took advantage of the next few days to get in some extra rest. She would sit in Arthur’s room, where he was spending nearly all of his time now, and read to him. She visited Artemis and Athena, as she had done regularly since they had come to Leighton Hall. She checked and double-checked to make sure that things were ready for the baby’s arrival. And she would take walks with her mother around the park, not wanting to be too sedentary.

Five days after their guests had departed, Charlotte and Margaret took a walk to the lake, enjoying the soft breeze that kept the sunny day from feeling too warm. Walking was becoming more uncomfortable for Charlotte, particularly with the way that the baby was pressing down within her now. Dr. Knight had told her that would happen in the last few weeks before she delivered.

As they walked, Charlotte thought she must have slept oddly the night before, for she had woken up with a twinge in her back. Some gentle stretching had seemed to help, but she kept feeling the pain low across her back off and on as she walked with her mother. She tried to put on a brave face, but Margaret noticed her grimace.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“I am just feeling a little achy. I think I may have slept in a strange position last night.”

“How long has your back been hurting, dearest?”

“Since I woke up, although it has not been constant. It does seem to be worsening, though. Perhaps I should go lay down for a rest.”

“Yes, I think that would be best,” said Margaret, striving to keep her voice calm and steady. She suspected that more might be happening than a strained back muscle Margaret kept the conversation going as they walked across the lawn towards the stables. She would feel relieved when Charlotte was settled in her bed and they had called for the doctor.

It would be Dr. Rendall who would come, as Dr. Knight had traveled with his new wife to Carshalton in order to begin the process of closing up Lavender Manor. Frances would have anything packed up that she wished to take with her to her new home and would instruct the servants on what to do with the rest. She would meet with her steward to give instructions on ongoing estate affairs and how often to communicate with her. Once all that was done, she and Dr. Knight would return to his home in Winchester and begin their lives there together. Frances likely would have accomplished everything by now, but she and the doctor were not expected back for another day or two at least.

As they neared the stables, Charlotte gave a sharp cry and bent over, clutching at her abdomen. Her mother rubbed her back and watched anxiously until she was able to stand most of the way back up again.

“Mama, I think we had better call for Dr. Rendall,” she said, her voice a little shaky.

“Yes, sweetheart, I think we had better. Let us get you to the house and we will send someone right away.”

Charlotte walked on and had almost passed the stables when her next pain caused her to double over again.

“Oh, Mama, this is happening much faster than I had thought it would!” she cried.

“Sweetheart, let us go into the stables here and see if we can perhaps find someone to help us,” her mother said with preternatural calm.

Charlotte drew on her mother’s strength, both mental and physical, leaning on her as her mother wrapped an arm around her and led her into the structure. As they passed through the doorway, Charlotte felt a popping sensation between her legs, then a trickle of warm liquid ran down them.

“Mama!” she hissed at Margaret.

“Alright, darling, let us get you to this bench. Here now, are you able to sit?”

Margaret quickly removed the pelisse she had been wearing and folded it, placing it on the bench. She eased Charlotte gently to a sitting position on it and turned with an assessing eye. Three stable boys were standing stock-still, looking at them with round eyes, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Margaret took charge, pointing at each one in turn. “You, ride for Dr. Rendall and bring him back here immediately. You, run to the house and bring Mr. Plumptre here. Tell him that his wife is having her baby in the stables.” Charlotte let out a groan at that. “And you, is there a clean blanket here, and an empty stall with fresh hay on the ground?”

The three ran to do her bidding, the one who was going for the doctor jumping onto a horse without bothering to put on a saddle first. He was clearly comfortable riding without one, and he was off at a gallop. The third boy produced a blanket and led Margaret to a stall near the front of the stables. Margaret spread out the blanket with his help, then sent him off to the house to get more blankets and some towels, instructing him to have footmen bring hot water as soon as it was heated.

Margaret returned to her daughter, who was bent over on the bench, trying to deal with the pain of another contraction. She sat next to Charlotte and rubbed her back soothingly.

“Sweetheart, we need to move you so that you will have some privacy. As soon as this pain is over, we will move to the stall that has been made ready for you.”

Charlotte took a few moments to recover once the majority of the pain had subsided. Her entire abdomen was squeezing painfully now with each contraction, and there was an intense and painful pressure between her legs during each one as well. But she did not wish to give birth on a bench just inside the door of the family stables. She mustered the strength to stand with her mother’s help and made her way to the stall, sinking onto the blanket and laying down.

Margaret knelt next to her and took her hand, brushing her hair back from her forehead as she spoke with her soothingly. Charlotte had not expected her pains to begin so quickly and with such severity. She said as much to her mother.

“By my experience of my own births and the ones at which I have assisted, it typically takes more time to reach this stage and the body has a chance to adjust gradually and prepare for the greater pains. I suspect that you have been labouring for some hours already, but you did not recognise the aches for what they were. It can often begin with back pain.”

Charlotte squeezed her mother’s hand tightly as another set of pains began.

“Make sure that you are breathing, sweetheart, and try to relax your body as much as you can. I know it is difficult, but the process will be a little easier if you can manage to do that.”

Charlotte listened to her mother and did her best to comply, but it was so difficult to focus on anything except the pain. She truly had not expected it to be so intense. She had never observed the birth of a child before and now wished that she had done so so that she might have known what to expect. But on the other hand, she likely would have been terrified of what was going to happen to her if she had, so perhaps it was best that she had not.

They heard a sound at the stable door as one of Charlotte’s contractions was just coming to an end. John appeared at the door to the stall, face flushed with the exertion of running all the way from his study. He dropped to the ground next to his wife and took her other hand in his.

“Sweet girl, are you alright?”

“It would seem that our baby has decided to come a few weeks early, my love. This is not where I had imagined giving birth, but I do not think that I can make it any farther.”

“I am sorry, love. I know that it is not ideal, but we will have to make the best of it. What can I do to help?” he asked.

“You are already doing it by being here. I am glad that you are, even if fathers are not usually present for their children’s births,” she bit out the last few words as another contraction began.

He looked at Margaret in concern.

“Should her pains be happening so close together already?” he asked.

“I believe that she has been labouring for some hours without realising it,” said Margaret.

The two of them exchanged a look, each understanding that the birth might be happening much sooner than they had planned, and without a doctor even on-site yet.

John felt an ache in his chest at the pain evident on Charlotte’s face and in her tense body. He hated to see her going through this but knew that it was necessary in order for their baby to be born. And yet he began to worry that this labour was not a typical one and that perhaps things were not going to turn out for the best.

The experience of his uncle weighed heavily on his mind. Childbirth was perilous even now. But he would not dwell on the terrible possibilities. It would be of no use and would keep him from being someone on whom Charlotte could depend if he was caught up in frantic worry for her and their baby.

Two of the stable boys came running back into the stables, carrying blankets, cloths, and towels. They were soon followed by footmen carrying pails of hot water, which they deposited in the stall before asking if there was anything else they needed.

“Just privacy, please, and when Dr. Rendall arrives, please bring him here.”

They bowed and left, closing the stable doors behind them. Charlotte could feel the sweat trickling down her forehead and her chest. Her clothes were sticking to her from the exertions of her labour pains. She could smell the hay and the horses. She saw a shaft of sunlight coming in through one of the high windows, dust motes floating in the beam. She heard the whinnying and nickering of the horses that were still in their stalls and somehow knew that a particular whinny belonged to Artemis.

“It is alright, girl. I am fine,” she called out to the horse, not wanting her to worry.

The pressure in Charlotte’s pelvis began to increase with another pain.

“Mama, I am not sure that the baby is going to wait for Dr. Rendall,” she said, putting into words what they had all been worried was about to happen.

“Then we will have to do this ourselves, sweetheart. Women have been having babies for a long time without physicians. You will be just fine,” she said, trying to reassure herself as much as her daughter and son-in-law. “John, you should probably wash your hands.”

John pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Grabbing one of the clean cloths, he dipped it into the water and washed his hands and forearms with it before drying them on a clean towel.

“One of us will need to be prepared to receive the baby when it comes out,” said Margaret. “Catch it, for lack of a better term.” She almost wanted to laugh at the momentary look of panic that flitted across John’s face, but she understood the feeling.

“Well, I suppose it is a good thing that I have had some experience in that regard,” he began.

“John Pemberton Plumptre, if you compare me to these horses, you will be sleeping out here with them for at least a month,” gritted out Charlotte through her pain.

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” said John, catching Margaret’s eye. That time she did look at her son-in-law in amusement. Continuing that thought would have been a costly mistake, and she knew that he realised it, if almost too late.

“Mama, I want to push. It feels like I must!” cried Charlotte. “Should this be happening already?”

Margaret could hear the panic creeping into her daughter’s voice.

“I do not know, sweetheart, but you should probably trust your body. With the next pain you feel coming on, I want you to try to push. But I think it will be easier for you if we can get you sitting up somewhat. John, you are stronger than I am, and I think that you would be a better support for Charlotte than I could be. Will you come sit behind her so that she may rest against you?”

John quickly removed his waistcoat, then moved so that he was now behind Charlotte as Margaret moved down by her legs. 

Margaret used some of the hot water to clean her own hands and arms.

John lifted his wife carefully and held her to him, resting her back against his chest. He could feel how damp her dress was even through his shirt. She was warm and was already panting from her exertions. He brought his knees up so that she could rest her arms on them. He brought his arms around hers, clasping her hands from underneath and threading his fingers through her own as he kissed her sweaty temple.

Charlotte felt soothed by her husband’s comforting, solid body surrounding her. She was glad that he was the one to hold her and relieved that he would not be the one at the opposite end of her. She had been mortified at the thought that he was going to see her in that state, so exposed and vulnerable and messy. It was only marginally better for it to be her mother, but it could not be helped if Dr. Rendall did not arrive in time.

Charlotte let out a soft laugh.

“What is it, sweet girl?” asked John.

“It seems fitting that we would have our first child in a stable,” she answered. She knew that he was now thinking about their previous significant moments that had occurred in her family’s stables - their profession of love for one another; their conversation about obtaining her father’s approval followed by their heated embrace; his delivery of Athena; their first tentative touches over clothing, exploring more intimate places. Now they would add another cherished memory to those ones.

Charlotte felt the painful squeezing increasing in her abdomen again. Her grip on John’s hands tightened as she tried to remember to breathe through the pain.

“Alright, darling. I can see the baby’s head at your entrance. It is time to begin pushing,” said Margaret. She had already put another blanket underneath Charlotte and moved her skirts out of the way as much as she could. She grabbed one of the towels and laid it on top of the blanket.

The pain made it difficult to focus on what her mother was saying, but Charlotte’s instinct was already to push, so she concentrated on doing that. It felt as if the pain lasted for an eternity, but in reality it was less than two minutes before the pain began to ease somewhat. She did not have much of a break before another pain began.

“Very good, sweetheart, you are already making progress,” assured her mother.

John nuzzled against her temple again. “My love, I am so incredibly proud of you. You are doing magnificently,” he said.

Charlotte turned her head toward him and kissed him. He could already see how weary she was from the pain and her efforts, fast labour or no. He had never been present when a woman was giving birth before and was taken aback by the pain his sweet Charlotte was experiencing. Knowing it in your head and seeing it for yourself were vastly different things.

Charlotte rested against him as much as she could in between contractions. With each one, she would muster the strength to push down, slowly moving the baby along its way. The pressure and pain increased as the baby began to push its way closer to being birthed with each contraction. Tears of exhaustion streamed down her face as she slumped back against her husband following one particularly difficult contraction.

“I do not think I can do this, John.”

“You _can_, lovely, you can do this. You have been so brave and strong already, and I just need you to be brave and strong for a little longer. Our baby needs you to be brave and strong. Just rest on me for a bit, and when you are ready, we will try again.”

Charlotte was so very tired. She did not think that she had an ounce of strength remaining within her body. But her baby, John’s baby, needed her. Somehow she would find enough strength to keep going. She let two more pains pass before she felt she could attempt it again.

“Charlotte, I think that the head is ready to come out with your next push. Are you ready, sweetheart?” asked her mama.

Charlotte wearily nodded at Margaret as the squeezing began again. Mustering up the last bits of strength in her body, Charlotte pushed mightily as the contraction gripped her body. Just when she thought that she could push no longer, she felt something move within her body, and her mother gave an elated cry.

“Your baby’s head is out, Charlotte! Only a little more pushing, and the rest of your baby will soon follow!”

The baby’s body emerged into Margaret’s waiting hands with two more pushes, and she placed him on the towel that she laid down for him. 

“You have a son!” she proclaimed, her hands working to quickly clean off the baby before she wrapped him in another dry towel.

Just as Charlotte was starting to become anxious about how quiet he was being, the baby let out a robust yet tiny cry. More tears streamed down her face, but this time they were joyful. She turned her face to John’s and saw matching tears streaming down his cheeks. They exchanged a very wet kiss before Charlotte turned her face back to their baby as her mother swaddled him.

She reached her arms out as her mother brought him to her, placing him in her arms. She could not believe that this tiny creature belonged to her and John and was the result of their love for one another.

John’s hand came around her to touch the baby’s cheek gently, stroking it with a single finger. She looked at her husband’s face and saw an expression of wondrous adoration that she was sure must match her own.

“We are not quite done yet, but I daresay that the most difficult part is behind you now,” said Margaret, just as there was a sound at the door of the stables.

Dr. Rendall came skidding to a stop at the edge of the stall.

“Am I too late?” he asked, breathing hard.

“Not entirely,” answered Margaret. “I will happily turn over the remainder of the job to you, Doctor.”

After washing his hands, Dr. Rendall cut the umbilical cord and completed the delivery. Mrs. Wood helped to tidy Charlotte for the trip back to the house. That done, they began to discuss how to move mother and baby in the safest and most comfortable way.

It was decided that they would create a makeshift litter to transport Charlotte. Two burly footmen would be engaged to carry her from the stables to the house while John carried the baby. But when they reached the hall of the house, there was still the matter of getting Charlotte upstairs. The litter would be precarious on the staircase.

“Love, if you will wrap your arms around my neck, I will carry you.”

“Are you sure, John? You are not too tired?” asked Charlotte.

“I did not use nearly as much energy as you did, sweet girl. You can have confidence that I will get you there safely.”

John carried Charlotte up to their bedroom and laid her on top of the sheets that Jane had already set on top of their bedding. He helped undress Charlotte as Jane began to wash her, cleaning up the fluids and dirt that had been left behind by the birth. Jane helped her to dress in a clean nightgown and they tucked her into bed with the pillows plumped behind her.

Charlotte lay back with a sigh of relief at being in her own bed, able to rest. But there was a light tap on the door and Margaret entered, bringing the tiny baby boy with her.

“I believe young master Plumptre is looking for his first meal, sweetheart,” she said, carrying the baby to the bed and placing him in Charlotte’s arms. Feeding the baby was tricky, but Charlotte was determined to persist until she had mastered the job. She had no wish to follow the lead of so many wealthy families in hiring wet nurses.

The baby’s first feeding complete, Charlotte was finally able to get some well-earned rest. John sat in the bedroom with her, holding their son in his arms and watching his wife sleep. He could not stop marveling at what she had done. Even though he knew that many women gave birth every year, it had seemed nothing short of miraculous to him, and he knew that he would remember the experience vividly, and Charlotte’s strength and courage, for the rest of his life.

**

Charlotte woke briefly to feed the baby a few more times, then sank back into sleep, her exhausted body trying to restore its depleted resources. It was not until early evening that she woke for longer than a few minutes. As the dinner hour approached, she propped herself up to a sitting position and drank a cup of tea that Jane had brought to her.

She was just finishing the cup when she looked at John, an odd expression on her face.

“What is it, darling?” he asked.

“Has Uncle Arthur seen the baby yet?” she asked him.

“No, he has not. The baby has been in here with us all day.”

“I think that we should take him for a visit downstairs, John.”

“You do not wish to rest for the remainder of the day and introduce the baby to Uncle Arthur tomorrow?”

“No, John, I think that we should do it tonight.”

There was an urgency in her voice and she wore a look of determination.

“Alright, my love. Let me see if Jane can help us,” he said, pulling a bell rope to summon someone.

Several minutes later, John was making his way carefully down the staircase as he again carried Charlotte. Jane followed behind with the baby, even more carefully.

Mrs. Hopkins was waiting downstairs in the hall.

“I had an idea, Mr. and Mrs. Plumptre.”

Two minutes later, Charlotte was sitting in a rolling chair from Arthur’s study as John pushed it down the hallway to Arthur’s rooms. Charlotte held their baby in her arms. The makeshift wheelchair worked splendidly to take her the rest of the way downstairs.

They tapped on Arthur’s door quietly, unsure if he was asleep or awake. He had slept the majority of the time for the past week. Parnham, Arthur’s valet, opened the door immediately.

“Ah, he has just woken up. He will be glad to see you. All three of you,” Parnham said with a soft smile.

John wheeled Charlotte over to Arthur’s bedside. He was laying back against the pillows that had been piled behind him to lend him support. He looked exhausted, but he still managed to smile for them as he saw the little family entering his bedroom.

Charlotte gave him an overly bright smile as John lifted the baby from her arms and took him over to the bed.

“Uncle Arthur, we would like to introduce you to our son, Arthur John Plumptre.”

Arthur looked from John to Charlotte upon hearing the name. Then his face lit up in a beatific, almost otherworldly smile.

“You have done me a great honour, and I thank you,” he said, his voice weak but clear.

They spoke with him briefly but did not tarry long in his quarters, knowing that it did not take much activity to wear him out. John then helped Charlotte to her feet so that she could kiss Arthur’s cheek before they made their way back to the main staircase, John once more carrying Charlotte from the foot of the stairs as Jane carried baby Arthur to their rooms.

**

The next morning, Parnham went to check on his master to see if he could tempt him to have any breakfast. He found that Arthur had passed away during the night, but he was comforted by the peaceful smile that was on his face.


	28. A Time to Be at Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Charlotte find their way forward in Arthur's absence and return to intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of all things - or the end of this story, at least!
> 
> Thank you once again to dear Caffiend, who has been such an invaluable support as my friend and beta-reader. And thank you to all of you who have read, and given kudos, and commented, and who invested your time in a story that has meant a lot to me, as well as one that has been such a pleasure to write!

There was a pall over the house for weeks, even with the arrival of baby Arthur, whom they had taken to calling Artie. Uncle Arthur’s passing was expected, but it was devastating nonetheless. Artie was a bright spot in all of it, his cherubic face and thick head of blond curls causing him to look very much like his father already.

The estate had been settled quickly, with Arthur having arranged everything ahead of time and no one contesting the will. John and Charlotte were thankful that they had moved the previous year and had already been comfortable managing and living on the estate. It would have been overwhelming had they been trying to learn that while dealing with their grief.

Uncle Arthur had left a brief but lovely note for John and Charlotte, dictated to Parnham, and given to John by the valet a few days after Arthur’s burial. It had been written about a week before he had died.

_Dearest John & Charlotte,_

_I know that my time is drawing short. I wanted to tell you how much it has meant to me to have had the two of you living here with me. You have brought so much joy to the final year of my life, more than I have had in many years. First with your wedding and the time I was able to spend with Charlotte’s family at Woodridge, then with your relocation to Leighton Manor and being able to spend so much time with you both, experiencing your warm and loving companionship._

_It has been a privilege to see the love that is so obvious between the two of you and to watch it only continue to grow. I have been reminded of my dear Ellen as I have observed you together._

_It is my hope that I will live long enough to meet your child, but if I do not, please know that I have been overjoyed to know that you will be adding to your family and bringing the laughter and joy of children to this home. It is something that has been missing for far too long._

_Please do not become bogged down in mourning for me. I do not expect you to remain unaffected by my death, but I assure you that I am tired and am ready to go. I believe that I will see Ellen and our baby again in whatever happens after this life is over. Heaven, perhaps? I am at peace, and I hope that you will soon be, also._

_With love,  
Uncle Arthur_

They wept over the note, in grief for what they had lost, in gratitude that they had had this last year with him, and in thankfulness that he had been able to meet their baby after all. They tried to take his words to heart as the days went by, refusing to wallow in their sadness while doing their best to recall happy memories they had with Arthur. They wanted to honour him by dwelling on those times.

Dr. and Mrs. Knight had returned two days after Artie’s birth and had stopped by to check in on the family. They were greatly distressed to find out that they had missed the baby’s birth and that Arthur had also passed away in the interim. Charlotte did her best to assuage any guilt they might be feeling.

“Please, Dr. Knight, Frances, do not trouble yourselves. There was no way of knowing either that the baby would come this early nor that Arthur’s time was done. Dr. Knight, you have been such a dear friend to him for many years. I know that he valued your friendship and was delighted to see you happily remarried. There was nothing more that you could have done for him. His passing was peaceful, as far as we could tell, and he was ready.”

Charlotte hoped that Dr. Knight would not feel too much remorse for being absent on his impromptu wedding trip. He carried a great sense of responsibility for his patients, even when he could not be of practical help to them. But he truly could have done nothing for Arthur, and no one could have predicted his whirlwind romance with Frances would have occurred. It was something wonderful to be celebrated.

Over the weeks, the family began to find a new normalcy to their lives. Baby Artie slept quite a bit, but he was certainly vocal when he was awake and hungry, they discovered. Charlotte found her mama’s presence invaluable when it came to developing a comfort level as a new mother, in terms of both emotional and practical support. John settled more firmly into his duties as sole master of Leighton Hall, while Charlotte enlisted Mrs. Hopkins’ assistance with ensuring everything was still running smoothly in the house. She had expected no less as the staff had always been efficient, taking pride in a job well done.

The new parents had adjusted their schedules to that of baby Artie. They did have a nurse for him who assisted with his care when needed, most frequently at night, but he was with his mother and father the vast majority of the time. They knew that it was not the usual way of the gentry, but they could not imagine turning over the bulk of their child’s care to others. They were so in love with him that it did not feel burdensome. Rather, it was a joy to be with him.

Charlotte’s family returned to pick up their wife and mother when Artie was one month old. Louisa and Anne cooed and fussed over the baby as they impatiently waited for their turns to hold him while Edmund wore a subdued smile as he looked at his new nephew. He did not say no, however, when Charlotte asked if he wanted to hold the baby and took his own turn, looking surprisingly comfortable with the tiny infant in his arms. Edmund had turned nineteen recently, still a little young for a man to be looking to settle down. But she thought that he would make a fine father when that time came.

Charlotte treasured the week that her family was with them again. It was much quieter this time than it had been for the two weeks of the house party and Charlotte was selfishly glad to have them to herself and John, instead of having to share them with everyone else. She had missed them immensely.

The time went far too quickly and, before she was quite ready to say goodbye, her family was by the carriages, luggage already loaded and the servants waiting inside one. They passed around Artie for a final round of kisses to his soft chubby baby cheek and one last attempt to bring a gurgly smile to his face before they finally relinquished him back to his mother, who had already bestowed tight hugs upon every one of them.

There was a mugginess in the air despite the early hour, and the sun was already glaring, but it gave Charlotte an excuse for wiping her eyes. She was downhearted about all of them leaving, but particularly bereft over the departure of her mama. They had shared the experience of Charlotte becoming a mother for the first time, and there had been something incredibly profound about that. Now it was time for her to continue without her mother’s guidance and support, and even though she knew that John would be with her every step of the way, there was something almost terrifying about the idea.

But then she looked into baby Artie’s face, and her fears eased somewhat. The two of them would figure this out together, with John by their side.

She looked up and caught Margaret’s eye where she was seated in the carriage. She could see her mother wiping away a tear of her own. Charlotte deliberately gave her a bright if watery-eyed smile and lifted one hand to wave as the carriage wheels began to roll, carrying her family away until the next time one family visited the other. Oh, it had been such a blissful time! And now it would be a blissful, quieter time for her, her husband, and their first baby.

Five weeks had passed since his birth, and although she had been healing and regaining some of her energy, taking care of Artie and being up with him at night for feedings was still leaving her frequently tired. She looked forward to feeling a little more herself again and hoped that it would be soon.

As the carriages rolled out of sight, John turned to her and lifted Artie from her arms.

“You fed him shortly before we came out here, did you not? You should go and lay down and get some rest, if you are able.”

He cupped her cheek and leaned down to give her a kiss, heedless of the footman waiting by the open front doors. He wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s waist and they walked up the steps together.

**

Charlotte woke up after a few hours to find John standing by their bed, looking down at her with a fond smile.

“Is Artie hungry?” she asked.

“He is still sleeping for now, but I imagine he will be getting hungry soon. You looked so peaceful that I hated to wake you.”

“You did not. I was already waking up.” Charlotte pushed herself up to a sitting position before plumping the pillows behind herself and laying back against them. It felt nice to relax like this after catching up on her sleep a bit.

John sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair back from her eyes. Something was on his mind but Charlotte was not sure what. She waited a few moments, but he did not speak.

“What is it, love?” she asked.

He fingered the neckline of the nightgown she had put on before she had slipped under the covers.

“I have not seen you without any clothes on since you had Artie,” he said. “I have no wish to rush you back into lovemaking while you are still healing, darling, but I do miss seeing your delightful body.”

“I am sorry-” she began, dropping her eyes to where his hand was playing with her garment.

“No, sweet girl,” he interrupted her, using two of his fingers to gently lift her head. “You do not need to apologise if you feel more comfortable with clothing on your body right now. I simply wanted to let you know that I would enjoy seeing more of it any time you would care to show it to me.”

He finished with a rakish smile and Charlotte flushed under his gaze.

“It is not the same,” she answered quietly.

“I would not expect it to be the same, my love. You grew our child inside this wonderful, fantastically strong body of yours.”

His fingers played with the buttons on the nightgown.

“May I?” he asked.

Charlotte looked into the eyes of the man she loved and saw nothing there but adoration and patience. She nodded her head.

John’s fingers began to deftly unbutton her nightgown down the front as he leaned down to softly kiss her lips before exploring her mouth at greater length and in more depth. She felt the air on her skin as the fabric parted, then John’s mouth moved to her neck and began to kiss along the side and around to the hollow at the base of her throat. His lips followed the path of his fingers, kissing his way down between her breasts as he finished unbuttoning it a few inches below her waist.

His hands slid beneath the fabric and began to stroke over the soft roundness of her breasts, slightly swollen since she had not fed the baby for several hours. He was very gentle with her and the touch felt heavenly on her tender breasts. She had missed feeling his hands on her.

He parted the fabric further to reveal her milk-filled breasts to his eyes. He had seen her feeding baby Artie before, which scandalised poor Jane when he refused to leave while Charlotte nursed, but he had not seen her so exposed since before the birth. John pushed the fabric off of Charlotte’s shoulders and down her arms, leaving her bare to the waist with a little of the fabric still at her hips.

He pushed it down a little further, wanting to see more of her body, and saw the pink streaks down low on either side of her navel. His hands stroked over them reverently before he bent his head and kissed each mark.

“These marks are signs that you brought our baby into the world, Charlotte. And this soft roundness,” he said as he kissed across her abdomen, “is because you nourished him well and gave him a safe, comfortable place to grow. You are all the lovelier because of them.”

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears as he kissed all over her skin, making her feel more beautiful than ever before.

“I do not know if I have ever been as proud of you as I was when I watched you giving birth to our son. These marks will always be a reminder to me of your courage and strength,” he said as he sat up.

“And these,” he said, returning his gaze to her swollen breasts, “have always been gorgeous and are certainly no less tempting now.”

He began pressing gentle kisses there as well. Charlotte could feel arousal between her legs and an ache in her breasts at his attentions. Ah, how she had missed this! She did not know now why she had been so afraid of his response and so reluctant to let him see her.

John placed the gentlest kiss onto one nipple and began to kiss his way across to the other when he heard Charlotte exclaim.

“Oh!”

“What is it, sweet girl? Have I hurt you?” he asked, concern etched into his furrowed brow.

“No, my love. But it would seem that I need to feed Artie,” she said, casting her eyes shyly down at her breasts, one of which, the one that he had been kissing, was now beginning to leak milk.

John looked at the drop clinging to her nipple, fascinated. He reached a finger out and touched it, feeling the moisture with his fingertip. Charlotte watched, transfixed, as he raised his finger to his lips and sucked on it. She did not know why she found it so erotic, but felt a clenching between her thighs as she watched him.

“I should probably go get our son before I am tempted to try it right from the source,” he said with a glint in his eye.

**

After that, Charlotte still wore her nightgown but would often take it off for a time when she and John were alone. They began to enjoy playing with one another’s bodies again and would use their hands to bring each other over the brink into sexual pleasure, John being careful not to penetrate Charlotte’s body before she had been cleared by Dr. Knight for activity of a more intimate nature.

At six weeks post-birth, Dr. Knight gave her the approval to have marital relations whenever she chose. With her cheeks flushed scarlet, she told John the afternoon of the appointment and anxiously and eagerly awaited the evening. But instead of making full love to her, John worshipped her with his hands again while allowing his fingers to dip just barely inside. It both aroused her and drove her wild with wanting more. Perhaps John needed a few days to adjust to the idea again. When they were in bed together at night, Charlotte tried to hint to John that she was ready for more, but he was not following her subtle movements, and her attempts to get him to come over on top of her proved fruitless. 

Two weeks after the appointment with Dr. Knight, Charlotte was ready to take matters into her own hands. It was a hot summer day in the second half of July. 

John had completed his duties for the day and was emerging from his study in the early afternoon when Charlotte caught him in the hallway. She was dressed simply, he had noticed, not wearing her stays. She took hold of his hand with both of her own.

“I just fed Artie and have put him down for a nap. Can I persuade you to go with me to the lake? It is such a hot day, and I thought that it would be nice to spend some time by the water. Mrs. Salter has prepared a picnic basket for us.”

“How can I resist a tempting invitation like that, from such an alluring companion?” he said, putting his arm around Charlotte’s waist and pulling her to him for a quick kiss.

They held hands down to the boat, then John helped Charlotte in before pushing the boat into the water and hopping into it himself. He had discarded his coat, waistcoat, and cravat back at the house, rolling up his sleeves as they got to the shore. Charlotte openly admired him as she undid the top few buttons of her dress.

John watched her fingers intently, almost forgetting to keep rowing as she exposed much of the skin of her chest. He could see the roundness of her breasts coming into view, but she stopped with those three buttons. He felt himself hardening in his trousers and fought to put his mind on other things. But Charlotte’s fingers were stroking the skin she had exposed, and he longed to be the one doing the stroking.

He concentrated on the sun beating down upon his back and neck, and the slight breeze that was coming across the water and cooling him from the front. He listened to the birds singing and watched the swaying of the willow trees along the shore. But his eyes kept returning to Charlotte’s fingers.

They made it at last to the island. He helped Charlotte out of the boat then hopped out before pulling it further up the bank, grabbing the picnic basket and carrying it as they walked hand-in-hand to the sheltered far side of the island. Charlotte opened up the basket and took out a picnic blanket, spreading it out before she took out the food that the cook had packed. Mrs. Salter had packed thick slices of ham, fresh crusty rolls with soft butter to spread on them, some salty hard cheese, and ripe red strawberries, with lemonade to drink.

They ate their fill without overdoing it under the warm sun. Then Charlotte quickly repacked the food before standing up.

“Artie should not need me for some time still. I do not know about you, but I think a swim to cool off sounds lovely,” she said, beginning to at last unbutton her dress the remainder of the way. She let it drop to the blanket as she kicked off the slippers she had worn. She had left her stockings back in their room.

She began to stroll down to the water’s edge as John watched her hands move to the shift she wore. She looked over her shoulder at him as she let the garment slip off of her body and fall to the grass, taking the last steps to the water completely unclothed.

“Are you coming in?” she said with a sly smile.

She walked into the water and kept going until it was covering her breasts, then turned around to watch John. He had watched every move she had made while he sat completely still on the blanket.

At her question, he pulled off his boots and stockings, then stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the blanket as she watched with appreciation, not hiding her desire for him. Her eyes followed his hands as they moved to the waist of his breeches, unbuttoning them and shoving them down along with his drawers, leaving him just as naked as his wife.

He walked with a much more purposeful stride into the water, straight towards his wife. The look in his eyes made her squeal and begin swimming away from him. He toyed with her like a cat and mouse for several minutes, almost catching up to her and laughing as she would shriek when he would brush his fingers against her ankle, only to drop back and let her gain some distance again.

When she was back by the bank of the lake where they had had their picnic, he put on a burst of speed, grabbed her about the waist, and pulled her upright with him. Her eyes were huge with the thrill of the chase and of finally being caught. He took hold of her waist and pulled her up against his body, dipping his head to kiss her roughly, his own desire finally loosed. He slid one hand to her bottom, pulling her lower body even more firmly against his own.

Charlotte could feel his erection pressing against her core, where she wanted to feel him the most. It had been far too long since her husband had been inside her. She moaned against his mouth and heard his rough growl in response.

She took John’s hand and pulled him up the bank to the blanket, tugging him down on top of her as she lay back. John’s warm, firmly muscled body pressed against hers as he ducked his head to kiss behind her ear, then down her neck and across her shoulder.

“John, make love to me,” she whispered.

He pulled back and looked at her, apprehension on his face.

“What is it, darling?” she asked. “Is there a problem? Why do you keep stopping? Do you not wish to make love again?”

“I do, my love. So much.”

“Then what is it?”

He sighed and took a moment before responding.

“You endured so much pain. I am loath to do anything that is going to cause you more, either by the act itself or by the bearing of another child.”

Charlotte put her hands on either side of John’s face. “Oh, my sweet John. Is that what has caused you to be so hesitant about moving forward? I do not know if lovemaking is going to hurt, although it may, at least at the beginning, until my body is used to it again. I do know that I want to be with you in that way and am willing to endure some discomfort and even a little pain in order for that to happen.

“And while giving birth was more painful and difficult than I had ever imagined, I would willingly do it all over again to have Artie, or to have another child with you. It is what must happen if we want more children. And I do, John. I would dearly love to have more of your babies.”

He searched her face for a moment and saw how sincere she was in what she had said.

“Are you absolutely sure that you are ready?” he asked.

“I do not believe I could be any more eager, my love,” she said, smiling at her husband as her hand began to stroke over his shoulder and down his arm, gliding over his bicep and giving it a squeeze.

“Alright, then. I am going to do everything in my power to make it pleasant for you,” he said with a determined look.

He rolled to her side, leaning on one arm, as his mouth found hers once more. His other hand moved down over her body, stroking her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, as he kissed her slowly, feeling her relax under his touches. He continued for quite some time, worshipping her body until Charlotte was sighing and beginning to squirm under his touch, her legs moving restlessly.

He slipped his hand down between her thighs, which opened readily for him. Sliding his fingers up, he stroked them through her damp folds. He gently slid one finger into her and heard her sharp intake of breath as her thighs tensed around his hand. He began to withdraw, but Charlotte grabbed his wrist and held it in place.

“No, John, just-just give me a moment.”

“We do not have to do this today, sweet girl.”

“No, I want to. Please.”

He lowered his mouth to her breast and suckled at her nipple as she moaned with pleasure. He moved his mouth to the other breast and gave it the same treatment, and he felt her thighs relax as her legs fell open. John slowly began to stroke her with the finger that was still inside her, continuing with that single motion until she was soft, warm, and pliant for him. Then he withdrew from her, added a second finger, and very slowly slid them back into her, finding no resistance from her this time.

His mouth and hands worked her body, preparing her for him, but he wanted to bring her to a release before he entered her again for the first time. He kissed down her abdomen as she watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, her hands in his hair. As his fingers continued to slide in and out of her, he fastened his mouth over the little bud between her legs, which was already swollen and ready for him. He gently sucked it as he increased the movement of his fingers just a little, not wanting to treat her roughly or make it uncomfortable for her.

He felt her fingers curl into his scalp as she wriggled and as he sucked, and he knew that she was getting close. He moved his mouth down and licked from her channel back up to her bud, gave it another suck, and she fell apart around his fingers, clutching his hair as she shook against his mouth.

She had a dreamy smile on her face when he moved back up her body and took her into his arms. John could not help the smug sense of satisfaction that he felt whenever he had done that to her. He enjoyed having that kind of power over his wife’s body, although she certainly had the same control over his own.

He was hard and ready for her and hoped that their lovemaking would not be too painful for her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled them so that he was laying on his back with Charlotte on top of him, straddling his thighs. Charlotte looked at him questioningly.

“I thought it might be easier on your body if you control our movements. Put me inside you when you are ready, at your pace,” he told her.

Charlotte leaned down and kissed her husband, grateful for his thoughtfulness and aroused by his sensitivity to her own needs and how he always made sure to bring her pleasure in their lovemaking. It only made her want him more. She could taste herself in his mouth and felt a powerful sense of possessiveness mixed with an overwhelming love for him.

She slipped her hand between them and grasped his length. He was already very hard, the velvet skin hot to her touch. Charlotte sat up and positioned herself above him, the tip at her entrance. She took a few deep breaths and sought to keep her body relaxed as she slowly began to lower herself onto him. There was some sensitivity, some stretching, and a bit of a sting as she did so. But she went slowly, relaxed as much as she could, and soon was seated all the way down on him, her bottom resting against his thighs.

They both sighed in contentment at the feeling of him being inside her again. She leaned forward and kissed him, then sat up to move slowly up and down his shaft as she braced herself on his chest. The sting was subsiding, and while the stretched sensation remained, it was feeling quite pleasurable now. She was still aroused from her first climax, and it did not take long before she began to move with more purpose, reaching for her second.

John moved his hand between her legs and began to stroke her with his thumb as she moved. His hips were moving in tandem with hers now, matching her gentle thrusts with his own.

John’s eyes were filled with love and desire when she looked down at him, and she smiled as she felt her climax tightening her body just before a pleasurable tingle began in her extremities. Then it broke open over her and she squeezed him within her body as her release caused John’s to follow. He thrust up into her as he spilled into her passage and she hissed with a slight bit of pain, but mostly with pleasure.

She collapsed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair.

“I am sorry, my sweet girl. I hurt you after all,” he said remorsefully.

“It is alright, my love. It only hurt a little, and the pleasure you brought me was far greater. We should not wait two months to do that again,” she said, lifting her head to smile at her husband.

He captured her mouth again with his.

“No, indeed, we should not.”

They rested for a few minutes in one another’s embrace before rinsing their bodies in the lake, then dried off and dressed for the walk back to the house.

**

_Five Years Later_

“Artie! Be careful, please!”

“Yes, Mama!” the boy answered as Charlotte watched anxiously.

He was climbing a tree with his papa, and while Charlotte knew that John was watching him carefully and was ready to catch him if he slipped, she could not help but worry over her firstborn and his tendency to rush into adventure. He followed his papa wherever he could.

Artie was also a sweet boy who was very protective of his four-year-old sister, Catherine, and his little brother, two-year-old Stephen. He doted on Stephen, in fact, and the younger boy idolised him in return. Catherine and Stephen were chasing each other while being careful to stay under their mother’s watchful eyes.

Charlotte sighed in contentment as she looked at her family. It was a beautiful June day. They had decided on a picnic lunch on the island and had spent several hours there playing, both in and out of the water. Island picnics these days were usually very different than they had been once upon a time, but Charlotte and John still found time to steal away to there on their own now and again.

She was looking forward to the later part of the summer. Margaret and Thomas would be visiting in a few months and would be bringing Louisa with them. Louisa was nearly eighteen now and was bristling to become more independent. Perhaps they would invite Louisa to stay on with them for a nice long visit when her parents returned home. It was hard for Louisa, being the last one at home and longing to have a home and family of her own, even at her young age. Edmund had married the former Georgiana Hillacre three years earlier and they were already expecting their second child, and Anne had gotten married to a gentleman from London the previous year and was currently in an interesting condition herself.

Perhaps they would have a house party during Louisa’s visit and invite some of her cousins who were closest in age, along with some other young people and enough chaperones to ensure that they kept themselves out of serious trouble. It had been a few years since their last house party and, if it followed the patterns of previous ones, Charlotte would have more help than she would know what to do with it.

She placed her hand protectively over her abdomen as she thought about what the beginning of next year would bring. She had not yet confirmed it with Dr. Knight, but she was sure that they were adding to their family again. Charlotte could hardly wait until that evening when she could share her suspicions with John. She knew that her husband would be just as thrilled as he had been with the first three.

Charlotte looked around at these people who were so precious to her. It suddenly hit her that, if Charles Saunderson had not behaved so disreputably, none of this would have happened. It was his reprehensible actions towards her that had caused her father to seek legal recourse. If he had not done so, she never would have met John.

She laughed suddenly as she realised that she was actually thankful for the turn of events with Charles Saunderson.

John was approaching her with his shadow close behind.

“What is it, sweet girl?” he asked.

“I am just happy!” she answered. “But do you know who will not be happy if we are late for dinner? Mrs. Salter. We had better take this group back so that there is time to get them cleaned up and have a short rest beforehand.”

John extended his hand and lifted her to her feet easily. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed her husband, laughing again at the outcry from their children that greeted their display of affection. She picked up Stephen and held out her hand to Catherine as John swept Artie up off the ground and onto his shoulders. The family happily headed back to the boat, the children chattering and the parents sharing a fond smile.


End file.
